BOOKS  BY  BRET  HARTE 

For  complete  list  see 

pages  at  the  back 

of  this  volume 


FROM  SAND  HILL 
TO  PINE 


BY 


BRET  HARTE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 


1900 


COPYRIGHT,   1900,   BY   BRET   HARTE 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


082 


955" 
H337 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S          ...  1 

A  TREASURE  OF  THE  REDWOODS      ...  85 

A  BELLE  OF  CANADA  CITY 123 

WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA     ...  193 

A  JACK  AND  JILL  OF  THE  SIERRAS     .        .        .  234 

MR.  BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER     ....  277 


FROM  SAND  HILL  TO  PINE 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT 
HARRY'S 


THERE  was  a  slight  jarring  through  the 
whole  frame  of  the  coach,  a  grinding  and 
hissing  from  the  brakes,  and  then  a  sudden 
jolt  as  the  vehicle  ran  upon  and  recoiled 
from  the  taut  pole-straps  of  the  now  arrested 
horses.  The  murmur  of  a  voice  in  the  road 
was  heard,  followed  by  the  impatient  accents 
of  Yuba  Bill,  the  driver. 

"  Wha-a-t  ?     Speak  up,  can't  ye  ?  " 

Here  the  voice  uttered  something  in  a 
louder  key,  but  equally  unintelligible  to  the 
now  interested  and  fully  awakened  passen 
gers. 

One  of  them  dropped  the  window  nearest 
him  and  looked  out.  He  could  see  the  faint 
glistening  of  a  rain-washed  lantern  near  the 
wheelers'  heads,  mingling  with  the  stronger 


Z    A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

coach  lights,  and  the  glow  of  a  distant  open 
cabin  door  through  the  leaves  and  branches 
of  the  roadside.  The  sound  of  falling  rain 
on  the  roof,  a  soft  swaying  of  wind-tossed 
trees,  and  an  impatient  movement  on  the 
box-seat  were  all  they  heard.  Then  Yuba 
Bill's  voice  rose  again,  apparently  in  answer 
to  the  other. 

"  Why,  that 's  half  a  mile  away !  " 

"  Yes,  but  ye  might  have  dropped  onto  it 
in  the  dark,  and  it 's  all  on  the  down  grade," 
responded  the  strange  voice  more  audibly. 

The  passengers  were  now  thoroughly 
aroused. 

"What's  up,  Ned?"  asked  the  one  at 
the  window  of  the  nearest  of  two  figures 
that  had  descended  from  the  box. 

"  Tree  fallen  across  the  road,"  said  Ned, 
the  expressman,  briefly. 

"  I  don't  see  no  tree,"  responded  the  pas 
senger,  leaning  out  of  the  window  towards 
the  obscurity  ahead. 

"  Now,  that 's  onfortnit !  "  said  Yuba  Bill 
grimly;  "but  ef  any  gentleman  will  only 
lend  him  an  opery  glass,  mebbe  he  can  see 
round  the  curve  and  over  the  other  side  o' 
the  hill  where  it  is.  Now,  then,"  address- 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S    6 

ing  the  stranger  with  the  lantern,  "bring 
along  your  axes,  can't  ye  ?  " 

"  Here 's  one,  Bill,"  said  an  officious  out 
side  passenger,  producing  the  instrument  he 
had  taken  from  its  strap  in  the  boot.  It 
was  the  "  regulation  "  axe,  beautifully 
shaped,  highly  polished,  and  utterly  ineffec 
tive,  as  Bill  well  knew. 

"  We  ain't  cuttin'  no  kindlin's,"  he  said 
scornfully  ;  then  he  added  brusquely  to  the 
stranger  :  "  Fetch  out  your  biggest  wood 
axe  —  you  've  got  one,  ye  know  —  and  look 
sharp." 

"I  don't  think  Bill  need  be  so  d — d 
rough  with  the  stranger,  considering  he's 
saved  the  coach  a  very  bad  smash,"  suggested 
a  reflective  young  journalist  in  the  next 
seat.  "  He  talks  as  if  the  man  was  respon 
sible." 

"  He  ain't  quite  sure  if  that  is  n't  the 
fact,"  said  the  express  messenger,  in  a  low 
ered  voice. 

"  Why  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  clamored 
the  others  excitedly. 

"  Well  —  this  is  about  the  spot  where  the 
up  coach  was  robbed  six  months  ago,"  re 
turned  the  messenger. 


4    A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  the  lady  in  the  back 
seat,  rising  with  a  half  hysterical  laugh, 
"  had  n't  we  better  get  out  before  they 
come?" 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  danger, 
madam,"  said  a  quiet,  observant  man,  who 
had  scarcely  spoken  before,  "  or  the  express 
man  would  not  have  told  us  ;  nor  would  he, 
I  fancy,  have  left  his  post  beside  the  trea 
sure  on  the  box." 

The  slight  sarcasm  implied  in  this  was 
enough  to  redden  the  expressman's  cheek 
in  the  light  of  the  coach  lamp  which  Yuba 
Bill  had  just  unshipped  and  brought  to  the 
window.  He  would  have  made  some  tart 
rejoinder,  but  was  prevented  by  Yuba  Bill 
addressing  the  passengers  :  "  Ye  '11  have  to 
put  up  with  one  light,  I  reckon,  until  we  've 
got  this  job  finished." 

"  How  long  will  it  last,  Bill  ?  "  asked  the 
man  nearest  the  window. 

"  Well,"  said  Bill,  with  a  contemptuous 
glance  at  the  elegant  coach  axe  he  was  carry 
ing  in  his  hand,  "considerin'  these  purty 
first-class  highly  expensive  hash  choppers 
that  the  kempany  furnishes  us,  I  reckon  it 
may  take  an  hour." 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S    5 

"  But  is  there  no  place  where  we  can 
wait?"  asked  the  lady  anxiously.  "  I  see  a 
light  in  that  house  yonder." 

"  Ye  might  try  it,  though  the  kempany, 
as  a  rule,  ain't  in  the  habit  o'  makin'  social 
calls  there,"  returned  Bill,  with  a  certain 
grim  significance.  Then,  turning  to  some 
outside  passengers,  he  added,  "  Now,  then  ! 
them  ez  is  goin'  to  help  me  tackle  that  tree, 
trot  down  !  I  reckon  that  blitherin'  idiot  " 
(the  stranger  with  the  lantern,  who  had  dis 
appeared)  "  will  have  sense  enough  to  fetch 
us  some  ropes  with  his  darned  axe." 

The  passengers  thus  addressed,  appar 
ently  miners  and  workingmen,  good  hu- 
moredly  descended,  all  except  one,  who 
seemed  disinclined  to  leave  the  much  coveted 
seat  on  the  box  beside  the  driver. 

"  I  '11  look  after  your  places  and  keep  my 
own,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  as  the  others 
followed  Bill  through  the  dripping  rain. 
When  they  had  disappeared,  the  young 
journalist  turned  to  the  lady. 

"  If  you  would  really  like  to  go  to  that 
house,  I  will  gladly  accompany  you."  It  was 
possible  that  in  addition  to  his  youthful 
chivalry  there  was  a  little  youthful  resent- 


6    A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

ment  of  Yuba  Bill's  domineering  prejudices 
in  his  attitude.  However,  the  quiet,  observ 
ant  passenger  lifted  a  look  of  approval  to 
him,  and  added,  in  his  previous  level,  half 
contemptuous  tone :  — 

"  You  '11  be  quite  as  well  there  as  here, 
madam,  and  there  is  certainly  no  reason  for 
your  stopping  in  the  coach  when  the  driver 
chooses  to  leave  it." 

The  passengers  looked  at  each  other.  The 
stranger  spoke  with  authority,  and  Bill  had 
certainly  been  a  little  arbitrary  ! 

"  I  '11  go  too,"  said  the  passenger  by  the 
window.  "  And  you  '11  come,  won't  you, 
Ned  ? "  he  added  to  the  express  messenger. 
The  young  man  hesitated  ;  he  was  recently 
appointed,  and  as  yet  fresh  to  the  business 
—  but  he  was  not  to  be  taught  his  duty 
by  an  officious  stranger !  He  resented  the 
interference  youthfully  by  doing  the  very 
thing  he  would  have  preferred  not  to  do,  and 
with  assumed  carelessness  —  yet  feeling  in 
his  pocket  to  assure  himself  that  the  key  of 
the  treasure  compartment  was  safe  —  turned 
to  follow  them. 

"Won't  you  come  too?"  said  the  jour 
nalist,  politely  addressing  the  cynical  passen 
ger. 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S    7 

44  No,  I  thank  you  !  I  '11  take  charge  of 
the  coach,"  was  the  smiling  rejoinder,  as 
he  settled  himself  more  comfortably  in  his 
seat. 

The  little  procession  moved  away  in  si 
lence.  Oddly  enough,  no  one,  except  the 
lady,  really  cared  to  go,  and  two  —  the  ex 
pressman  and  journalist  —  would  have  pre 
ferred  to  remain  on  the  coach.  But  the 
national  instinct  of  questioning  any  purely 
arbitrary  authority  probably  was  a  sufficient 
impulse.  As  they  neared  the  opened  door 
of  what  appeared  to  be  a  four-roomed,  un- 
painted,  redwood  boarded  cabin,  the  passen 
ger  who  had  occupied  the  seat  near  the 
window  said,  — 

44 1  '11  go  first  and  sample  the  shanty." 

He  was  not,  however,  so  far  in  advance  of 
them  but  that  the  others  could  hear  quite 
distinctly  his  offhand  introduction  of  their 
party  on  the  threshold,  and  the  somewhat 
lukewarm  response  of  the  inmates.  "  We 
thought  we  'd  just  drop  in  and  be  sociable 
until  the  coach  was  ready  to  start  again," 
he  continued,  as  the  other  passengers  en 
tered.  "  This  yer  gentleman  is  Ned  Brice, 
Adams  &  Co.'s  expressman ;  this  yer  is 


8          A   NIECE    OF   SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

Frank  Frenshaw,  editor  of  the  <  Mountain 
Banner ; '  this  yer  's  a  lady,  so  it  ain't  neces 
sary  to  give  her  name,  I  reckon  —  even  if 
we  knowed  it !  Mine  's  Sam  Hexshill,  of 
HexshiU  &  Dobbs's  Flour  Mills,  of  Stock 
ton,  whar,  ef  you  ever  come  that  way,  I  '11 
be  happy  to  return  the  compliment  and  hos 
pitality." 

The  room  they  had  entered  had  little  of 
comfort  and  brightness  in  it  except  the  fire 
of  pine  logs  which  roared  and  crackled  in  the 
adobe  chimney.  The  air  would  have  been 
too  warm  but  for  the  strong  west  wind  and 
rain  which  entered  the  open  door  freely. 
There  was  no  other  light  than  the  fire,  and 
its  tremulous  and  ever-changing  brilliancy 
gave  a  spasmodic  mobility  to  the  faces  of 
those  turned  towards  it,  or  threw  into  stronger 
shadow  the  features  that  were  turned  away. 
Yet,  by  this  uncertain  light,  they  could  see 
the  figures  of  a  man  and  two  women.  The 
man  rose  and,  with  a  certain  apathetic 
gesture  that  seemed  to  partake  more  of 
weariness  and  long  suffering  than  positive 
discourtesy,  tendered  seats  on  chairs,  boxes, 
and  even  logs  to  the  self-invited  guests. 
The  stage  party  were  surprised  to  see  that 


A   NIECE    OF  SNAPSHOT   HARRY'S 

this  man  was  the  stranger  who  had  held  the 
lantern  in  the  road. 

"  Ah !  then  you  did  n't  go  with  Bill  to 
help  clear  the  road  ? "  said  the  expressman 
surprisedly. 

The  man  slowly  drew  up  his  tall,  sham 
bling  figure  before  the  fire,  and  then  facing 
them,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  as  slowly 
lowered  himself  again  as  if  to  bring  his 
speech  to  the  level  of  his  hearers  and  give  a 
lazier  and  more  deliberate  effect  to  his  long- 
drawn  utterance. 

.  "  Well  —  no !  "  he  said  slowly.  "I  — 
did  n't  —  go  —  with  —  no  —  Bill  —  to  — 
help  —  clear  —  the  road  !  I  —  don't  — 
reckon  —  to  go  —  with  —  no  —  Bill  —  to  — 
clear  —  any  road  !  I  've  just  whittled  this 
thing  down  to  a  pint,  and  it 's  this  —  I  ain't 
no  stage  kempany's  nigger!  So  far  as 
turnin'  out  and  warnin'  'em  agin  goin'  to 
smash  over  a  fallen  tree,  and  slap  down  into 
the  canon  with  a  passel  of  innercent  passen 
gers,  I  'm  that  much  a  white  man,  but  1  ain't 
no  nigger  to  work  clearing  things  away  for 
'em,  nor  I  ain't  no  scrub  to  work  beside 
'em."  He  slowly  straightened  himself  up 
again,  and,  with  his  former  apathetic  air. 


10   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

looking  down  upon  one  of  the  women  who 
was  setting  a  coffee-pot  on  the  coals,  added, 
"  But  I  reckon  my  old  woman  here  kin  give 
you  some  coffee  and  whiskey  —  ef  you  keer 
for  it." 

Unfortunately  the  young  expressman  was 
more  loyal  to  Bill  than  diplomatic.  "  If 
Bill 's  a  little  rough,"  he  said,  with  a  height 
ened  color,  "  perhaps  he  has  some  excuse  for 
it.  You  forget  it 's  only  six  months  ago  that 
this  coach  was  4  held  up '  not  a  hundred 
yards  from  this  spot." 

The  woman  with  the  coffee-pot  here  faced 
about,  stood  up,  and,  either  from  design  or 
some  odd  coincidence,  fell  into  the  same 
dogged  attitude  that  her  husband  had  pre 
viously  taken,  except  that  she  rested  her 
hands  on  her  hips.  She  was  prematurely 
aged,  like  many  of  her  class,  and  her  black, 
snake-like  locks,  twisting  loose  from  her 
comb  as  she  lifted  her  head,  showed  threads 
of  white  against  the  firelight.  Then  with 
slow  and  implacable  deliberation  she  said : 

"  We  '  forget ' !  Well !  not  much,  sonny  ! 
We  ain't  forgot  it,  and  we  ain't  goin'  to  for 
get  it,  neither !  We  ain't  bin  likely  to  for 
get  it  for  any  time  the  last  six  months.  What 


A  NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       11 

with  visitations  from  the  county  constables, 
snoopin's  round  from  'Frisco  detectives,  drop- 
pin's-in  from  newspaper  men,  and  yawpin's 
and  starin's  from  tramps  and  strangers  on 
the  road  —  we  have  n't  had  a  chance  to  dis- 
remember  much  !  And  when  at  last  Hiram 
tackled  the  head  stage  agent  at  Marysville, 
and  allowed  that  this  yer  pesterin'  and  per- 
secutin'  had  got  ter  stop  —  what  did  that 
yer  head  agent  tell  him  ?  Told  him  to  4  shet 
his  head,'  and  be  thankful  that  his  A  thievin' 
old  shanty  was  n't  burnt  down  around  his 
ears ! '  Forget  that  six  months  ago  the 
coach  was  held  up  near  here  ?  Not  much, 
sonny  —  not  much  !  " 

The  situation  was  embarrassing  to  the 
guests,  as  ordinary  politeness  called  for 
some  expression  of  sympathy  with  their 
gloomy  hostess,  and  yet  a  selfish  instinct  of 
humanity  warned  them  that  there  must  be 
some  foundation  for  this  general  distrust  of 
the  public.  The  journalist  was  troubled  in 
his  conscience  ;  the  expressman  took  refuge 
in  an  official  reticence  ;  the  lady  coughed 
slightly,  and  drew  nearer  to  the  fire  with  a 
vague  but  safe  compliment  to  its  brightness 
and  comfort.  It  devolved  upon  Mr.  Hecks- 


12   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

hill,  who  felt  the  responsibility  of  his  late 
airy  introduction  of  the  party,  to  boldly 
keep  up  his  role,  with  an  equally  non-com 
mittal,  light-hearted  philosophy. 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  he  said,  addressing  his 
hostess,  "  it 's  a  queer  world,  and  no  man  's 
got  sabe  enough  to  say  what 's  the  rights 
and  wrongs  o'  anything.  Some  folks  believe 
one  thing  and  act  upon  it,  and  other  folks 
think  differently  and  act  upon  that !  The 
only  thing  ye  kin  safely  say  is  that  things 
is  ez  they  be  !  My  rule  here  and  at  the 
mill  is  jest  to  take  things  ez  I  find  'em ! " 

It  occurred  to  the  journalist  that  Mr. 
Heckshill  had  the  reputation,  in  his  earlier 
career,  of  "  taking  "  such  things  as  unoccu 
pied  lands  and  timber  "  as  he  found  them," 
without  much  reference  to  their  actual  own 
ers.  Apparently  he  was  acting  upon  the 
same  principle  now,  as  he  reached  for  the 
demijohn  of  whiskey  with  the  ingenuous 
pleasantry,  "  Did  somebody  say  whiskey,  or 
did  I  dream  it  ?  " 

But  this  did  not  satisfy  Frenshaw.  "  I 
suppose,"  he  said,  ignoring  HeckshilTs  diplo 
matic  philosophy,  "  that  you  may  have  been 
the  victim  of  some  misunderstanding  or 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   13 

some  unfortunate  coincidence.  Perhaps  the 
company  may  have  confounded  you  with 
your  neighbors,  who  are  believed  to  be 
friendly  to  the  gang ;  or  you  may  have 
made  some  injudicious  acquaintances.  Per 
haps  "  - 

He  was  stopped  by  a  suppressed  but  not 
unmusical  giggle,  which  appeared  to  come 
from  the  woman  in  the  corner  who  had  not 
yet  spoken,  and  whose  face  and  figure  in  the 
shadow  he  had  previously  overlooked.  But 
he  could  now  see  that  her  outline  was  slim 
and  graceful,  and  the-  contour  of  her  head 
charming,  —  facts  that  had  evidently  not 
escaped  the  observation  of  the  expressman 
and  Mr.  Heckshill,  and  that  might  have  ac 
counted  for  the  cautious  reticence  of  the  one 
and  the  comfortable  moralizing  of  the  other. 

The  old  woman  cast  an  uneasy  glance  on 
the  fair  giggler,  but  replied  to  Frenshaw: 

"  That 's  it !  i  injerdishus  acquaintances  ! ' 
But  just  because  we  might  happen  to  have 
friends,  or  even  be  sorter  related  to  folks 
in  another  line  o'  business  that  ain't  none 
o'  ours,  the  kempany  hain't  no  call  to  per 
secute  us  for  it !  S'pose  we  do  happen  to 
know  some  one  like  "  — 


14   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

"  Spit  it  out,  aunty,  now  you  've  started 
in !  /  don't  mind,"  said  the  fair  giggler, 
now  apparently  casting  off  all  restraint  in 
an  outburst  of  laughter. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  dogged 
desperation,  "  suppose,  then,  that  that  young 
girl  thar  is  the  niece  of  Snapshot  Harry, 
who  stopped  the  coach  the  last  time  "  — 

"  And  ain't  ashamed  of  it,  either  !  "  inter 
rupted  the  young  girl,  rising  and  disclosing 
in  the  firelight  an  audacious  but  wonder 
fully  pretty  face  ;  "  and  supposing  he  is  my 
uncle,  that  ain't  any  cause  for  their  bedev- 
ilin'  my  poor  old  cousins  Hiram  and  Sophy 
thar ! "  For  all  the  indignation  of  her 
words,  her  little  white  teeth  flashed  mis 
chievously  in  the  dancing  light,  as  if  she 
rather  enjoyed  the  embarrassment  of  her 
audience,  not  excluding  her  own  relatives. 
Evidently  cousin  Sophy  thought  so  too. 

"  It 's  all  very  well  for  you  to  laugh,  Flo, 
you  limb ! "  she  retorted  querulously,  yet 
with  an  admiring  glance  at  the  girl,  "  for  ye 
know  thar  ain't  a  man  dare  touch  ye  even 
with  a  word  ;  but  it 's  mighty  hard  on  me 
and  Hiram,  all  the  same." 

"  Never  you  mind,  Sophy  dear,"  said  the 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   15 

girl,  placing  her  hand  half  affectionately, 
half  humorously  on  the  old  woman's  shoul 
der  ;  "  mebbe  I  won't  always  be  a  discredit 
and  a  bother  to  you.  Jest  you  hold  your 
hosses,  and  wait  until  uncle  Harry  4  holds 
up  '  the  next  Pioneer  Coach,  "  —  the  dan 
cing  devil  hi  her  eyes  glanced  as  if  acci 
dentally  on  the  young  expressman,  —  "  and 
he  '11  make  a  big  enough  pile  to  send  me  to 
Europe,  and  you  '11  be  quit  o'  me." 

The  embarrassment,  suspiciousness,  and 
uneasiness  of  the  coach  party  here  found  re 
lief  in  a  half  hysteric  explosion  of  laughter, 
in  which  even  the  dogged  Hiram  and  Sophy 
joined.  It  seemed  as  impossible  to  withstand 
the  girl's  invincible  audacity  as  her  beauty. 
She  was  quick  to  perceive  her  advantage, 
and,  with  a  responsive  laugh  and  a  pictur 
esque  gesture  of  invitation,  said  :  — 

"  Now  that  's  all  settled,  ye  'd  better 
waltz  in  and  have  your  whiskey  and  coffee 
afore  the  stage  starts.  Ye  kin  comfort  your 
selves  that  it  ain't  stolen  or  pizoned,  even  if 
it  is  served  up  to  ye  by  Snapshot  Harry's 
niece !  "  With  another  easy  gesture  she 
swung  the  demijohn  over  her  arm,  and,  of 
fering  a  tin  cup  to  each  of  the  men,  filled 
them  in  turn. 


16   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

The  ice  thus  broken,  or  perhaps  thus  per 
ilously  skated  over,  the  passengers  were  as 
profuse  in  their  thanks  and  apologies  as  they 
had  been  constrained  and  artificial  before. 
Heckshill  and  Frenshaw  vied  with  each 
other  for  a  glance  from  the  audacious  Flo. 
If  their  compliments  partook  of  an  extrava 
gance  that  was  at  times  ironical,  the  girl  was 
evidently  not  deceived  by  it,  but  replied  in 
kind.  Only  the  expressman,  who  seemed  to 
have  fallen  under  the  spell  of  her  audacious 
glances,  was  uneasy  at  the  license  of  the 
others,  yet  himself  dumb  towards  her.  The 
lady  discreetly  drew  nearer  to  the  fire,  the 
old  woman,  and  her  coffee  ;  Hiram  subsided 
into  his  apathetic  attitude  by  the  fire. 

A  shout  from  the  road  at  last  proclaimed 
the  return  of  Yuba  Bill  and  his  helpers.  It 
had  the  singular  effect  of  startling  the  party 
into  a  vague  and  uneasy  consciousness  of  in 
discretion,  as  if  it  had  been  the  voice  of  the 
outer  world  of  law  and  order,  and  their  man 
ner  again  became  constrained.  The  leave- 
taking  was  hurried  and  perfunctory ;  the 
diplomatic  Heckshill  again  lapsed  into  glit 
tering  generalities  about  "  the  best  of  friends 
parting."  Only  the  expressman  lingered  for 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRTS   17 

a  moment  on  the  doorstep  in  the  light  of  the 
fire  and  the  girl's  dancing  eyes. 

"I  hope,"  he  stammered,  with  a  very 
youthful  blush,  "  to  come  the  next  time  — 
with  —  with  —  a  better  introduction." 

"  Uncle  Harry's,"  she  said,  with  a  quick 
laugh  and  a  mock  curtsey,  as  she  turned 
away. 

Once  out  of  hearing,  the  party  broke  into 
hurried  comment  and  criticism  of  the  scene 
they  had  just  witnessed,  and  particularly  of 
the  fair  actress  who  had  played  so  important 
a  part,  averring  their  emphatic  intention  of 
wresting  the  facts  from  Yuba  Bill  at  once, 
and  cross-examining  him  closely ;  but  oddly 
enough,  reaching  the  coach  and  that  re 
doubted  individual,  no  one  seemed  to  care 
to  take  the  initiative,  and  they  all  scrambled 
hurriedly  to  their  seats  without  a  word. 
How  far  Yuba  Bill's  irritability  and  imperi 
ous  haste  contributed  to  this,  or  a  fear  that 
he  might  in  turn  catechise  them  kept  them 
silent,  no  one  knew.  The  cynically  observ 
ant  passenger  was  not  there  ;  he  and  the 
sole  occupant  of  the  box-seat,  they  were  told, 
had  joined  the  clearing  party  some  moments 
before,  and  would  be  picked  up  by  Yuba 
Bill  later  on. 


18       A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

Five  minutes  after  Bill  had  gathered  up 
the  reins,  they  reached  the  scene  of  obstruc 
tion.  The  great  pine-tree  which  had  fallen 
from  the  steep  bank  above  and  stretched 
across  the  road  had  been  partly  lopped  of  its 
branches,  divided  in  two  lengths,  which  were 
now  rolled  to  either  side  of  the  track,  leav 
ing  barely  space  for  the  coach  to  pass.  The 
huge  vehicle  "  slowed  up "  as  Yuba  Bill 
skillfully  guided  his  six  horses  through  this 
narrow  alley,  whose  tassels  of  pine,  glisten 
ing  with  wet,  brushed  the  panels  and  sides 
of  the  coach,  and  effectually  excluded  any 
view  from  its  windows.  Seen  from  the 
coach  top,  the  horses  appeared  to  be  cleav 
ing  their  way  through  a  dark,  shining  olive 
sea,  that  parted  before  and  closed  behind 
them,  as  they  slowly  passed.  The  leaders 
were  just  emerging  from  it,  and  Bill  was 
gathering  up  his  slackened  reins,  when  a 
peremptory  voice  called,  "  Halt !  "  At  the 
same  moment  the  coach  lights  flashed  upon 
a  masked  and  motionless  horseman  in  the 
road.  Bill  made  an  impulsive  reach  for 
his  whip,  but  in  the  same  instant  checked 
himself,  reined  in  his  horses  with  a  sup 
pressed  oath,  and  sat  perfectly  rigid.  Not 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   19 

so  the  expressman,  who  caught  up  his  rifle, 
but  it  was  arrested  by  Bill's  arm,  and  his 
voice  in  his  ear  ! 

"  Too  late  !  —  we  're  covered !  —  don't  be 
ad— d  fool!" 

The  inside  passengers,  still  encompassed 
by  obscurity,  knew  only  that  the  stage  had 
stopped.  The  "  outsiders  "  knew,  by  expe 
rience,  that  they  were  covered  by  unseen 
guns  in  the  wayside  branches,  and  scarcely 
moved. 

"  I  did  n't  think  it  was  the  square  thing 
to  stop  you,  Bill,  till  you  'd  got  through 
your  work,"  said  a  masterful  but  not  unplea 
sant  voice,  "  and  if  you  '11  just  hand  down 
the  express  box,  I  '11  pass  you  and  the  rest 
of  your  load  through  free.  But  as  we  're 
both  in  a  hurry,  you  'd  better  look  lively 
about  it." 

"  Hand  it  down,"  said  Bill  gruffly  to  the 
expressman. 

The  expressman  turned  with  a  white 
cheek  but  blazing  eyes  to  the  compartment 
below  his  seat.  He  lingered,  apparently  in 
some  difficulty  with  the  lock  of  the  compart 
ment,  but  finally  brought  out  the  box  and 
handed  it  to  another  armed  and  masked  fig- 


20   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

ure  that  appeared  mysteriously  from  the 
branches  beside  the  wheels. 

"  Thank  you  !  "  said  the  voice  ;  "  you  can 
slide  on  now." 

"  And  thank  you  for  nothing,"  said  Bill, 
gathering  up  his  reins.  "  It 's  the  first  time 
any  of  your  kind  had  to  throw  down  a  tree 
to  hold  me  up  !  " 

"  You  're  lying,  Bill !  —  though  you  don't 
know  it,"  said  the  voice  cheerfully.  "  Far 
from  throwing  down  a  tree  to  stop  you,  it 
was  I  sent  word  along  the  road  to  warn  you 
from  crashing  down  upon  it,  and  sending 
you  and  your  load  to  h — 11  before  your 
time  !  Drive  on  !  " 

The  angry  Bill  waited  for  no  second  com 
ment,  but  laying  his  whip  over  the  backs  of 
his  team,  drove  furiously  forward.  So  rap 
idly  had  the  whole  scene  passed  that  the  in 
side  passengers  knew  nothing  of  it,  and  even 
those  on  the  top  of  the  coach  roused  from 
their  stupor  and  inglorious  inaction  only  to 
cling  desperately  to  the  terribly  swaying 
coach  as  it  thundered  down  the  grade  and 
try  to  keep  their  equilibrium.  Yet,  furious 
as  was  their  speed,  Yuba  Bill  could  not  help 
noticing  that  the  expressman  from  time  to 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   21 

time  cast  a  hurried  glance  behind  him.  Bill 
knew  that  the  young  man  had  shown  readi 
ness  and  nerve  in  the  attack,  although  both 
were  hopeless ;  yet  he  was  so  much  concerned 
at  his  set  white  face  and  compressed  lips 
that  when,  at  the  end  of  three  miles'  una 
bated  speed,  they  galloped  up  to  the  first 
station,  he  seized  the  young  man  by  the  arm, 
and,  as  the  clamor  of  the  news  they  had 
brought  rose  around  them,  dragged  him  past 
the  wondering  crowd,  caught  a  decanter 
from  the  bar,  and,  opening  the  door  of  a 
side  room,  pushed  him  into  it  and  closed  the 
door  behind  them. 

"  Look  yar,  Brice !  Stop  it !  Quit  it 
right  thar !  "  he  said  emphatically,  laying 
his  large  hand  on  the  young  fellow's  shoul 
der.  "  Be  a  man  !  You  've  shown  you  are 
one,  green  ez  you  are,  for  you  had  the  sand 
in  ye  —  the  clear  grit  to-night,  yet  you  'd 
have  been  a  dead  man  now,  if  I  had  n't 
stopped  ye  !  Man  !  you  had  no  show  from 
the  beginning !  You  've  done  your  level 
best  to  save  your  treasure,  and  I  'm  your 
witness  to  the  kempany,  and  proud  of  it, 
too !  So  shet  your  head  and  —  and,"  pour 
ing  out  a  glass  of  whiskey,  "  s waller  that !  " 


22   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

But  Brice  waved  him  aside  with  burning 
eyes  and  dry  lips. 

"  You  don't  know  it  all,  Bill !  "  he  said, 
with  a  half  choked  voice. 

"All  what?" 

"  Swear  that  you  '11  keep  it  a  secret,"  he 
said  feverishly,  gripping  Bill's  arm  in  turn, 
"  and  I  '11  tell  you." 

"Goon!"   " 

"  The  coach  was  robbed  before  that !  " 

"  Wot  yer  say  ?  "  ejaculated  Bill. 

"  The  treasure  —  a  packet  of  greenbacks 
—  had  been  taken  from  the  box  before  the 
gang  stopped  us  !  " 

"  The  h— 11,  you  say !  " 

"  Listen !  When  you  told  me  to  hand 
down  the  box,  I  had  an  idea  —  a  d — d 
fool  one,  perhaps  —  of  taking  that  package 
out  and  jumping  from  the  coach  with  it.  I 
knew  they  would  fire  at  me  only ;  I  might 
get  away,  but  if  they  killed  me,  I  'd  have 
done  only  my  duty,  and  nobody  else  would 
have  got  hurt.  But  when  I  got  to  the  box 
I  found  that  the  lock  had  been  forced  and 
the  money  was  gone.  I  managed  to  snap 
the  lock  again  before  I  handed  it  down.  I 
thought  they  might  discover  it  at  once  and 
chase  us,  but  they  did  n't." 


A  NIECE   OF    SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       23 

"And  then  thar  war  no  greenbacks  in 
the  box  that  they  took  ?  "  gasped  Bill,  with 
staring  eyes. 

"No!" 

Bill  raised  his  hand  in  the  air  as  if  in  sol 
emn  adjuration,  and  then  brought  it  down 
on  his  knee,  doubling  up  in  a  fit  of  uncon 
trollable  but  perfectly  noiseless  laughter. 
"  Oh,  Lord  !  "  he  gasped,  "  hoi'  me  afore  I 
bust  right  open  !  Hush,"  he  went  on,  with 
a  jerk  of  his  fingers  towards  the  next  room, 
"  not  a  word  o'  this  to  any  one  !  It 's  too 
much  to  keep,  I  know ;  it 's  nearly  killing 
me !  but  we  must  s  waller  it  ourselves  !  Oh, 
Jerusalem  the  Golden  !  Oh,  Brice  !  Think 
o'  that  face  o'  Snapshot  Harry's  ez  he  opened 
that  treasure  box  afore  his  gang  in  the 
brush  !  And  he  allers  so  keen  and  so  easy 
and  so  cock  sure  !  Created  snakes  !  I  'd 
go  through  this  every  trip  for  one  sight  of 
him  as  he  just  riz  up  from  that  box  and 
cussed  !  "  He  again  shook  with  inward  con 
vulsions  till  his  face  grew  purple,  and  even 
the  red  came  back  to  the  younger  man's 
cheek. 

"But  this  don't  bring  the  money  back, 
Bill,"  said  Brice  gloomily. 


24   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

Yuba  Bill  swallowed  the  glass  of  whis 
key  at  a  gulp,  wiped  his  mouth  and  eyes, 
smothered  a  second  explosion,  and  then 
gravely  confronted  Brice. 

"  When  do  you  think  it  was  taken,  and 
how  ?  " 

"  It  must  have  been  taken  when  I  left 
the  coach  on  the  road  and  went  over  to  that 
settler's  cabin,"  said  Brice  bitterly.  "  Yet 
I  believed  everything  was  safe,  and  I  left 
two  men  —  both  passengers  —  one  inside 
and  one  on  the  box,  that  man  who  sat  the 
other  side  of  you." 

"  Jee  whillikins  !  "  ejaculated  Bill,  with 
his  hand  to  his  forehead,  "  the  men  I  clean 
forgot  to  pick  up  in  the  road,  and  now  I 
reckon  they  never  intended  to  be  picked  up, 
either." 

"  No  doubt  a  part  of  the  gang,"  said 
Brice,  with  increased  bitterness ;  "  I  see  it 
all  now." 

"  No  !  "  said  Bill  decisively,  "  that  ain't 
Snapshot  Harry's  style  ;  he  's  a  clean  fighter, 
with  no  underhand  tricks.  And  I  don't  be 
lieve  he  threw  down  that  tree,  either.  Look 
yer,  sonny !  "  he  added,  suddenly  laying  his 
hand  on  Brice's  shoulder,  "  a  hundred  to 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   25 

one  that  that  was  the  work  of  a  couple  o' 
d — d  sneaks  or  traitors  in  that  gang  who 
kem  along  as  passengers.  I  never  took  any 
stock  in  that  coyote  who  paid  extra  for  his 
box-seat." 

Brice  knew  that  Bill  never  looked  kindly 
on  any  passenger  who,  by  bribing  the  ticket 
agent,  secured  this  favorite  seat,  which  Bill 
felt  was  due  to  his  personal  friends  and  was 
in  his  own  selection.  He  only  returned 
gloomily :  — 

"  I  don't  see  what  difference  it  makes  to 
us  which  robber  got  the  money." 

"Ye  don't,"  said  Bill,  raising  his  head, 
with  a  sudden  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "  Then  ye 
don't  know  Snapshot  Harry.  Do  ye  sup 
pose  he  's  goin'  to  sit  down  and  twiddle  his 
thumbs  with  that  skin  game  played  on  him? 
No,  sir,"  he  continued,  with  a  thoughtful  de 
liberation,  drawing  his  fingers  slowly  through 
his  long  beard,  "he  spotted  it — and  smelt 
out  the  whole  trick  ez  soon  ez  he  opened 
that  box,  and  that 's  why  he  did  n't  foller  us  ! 
He  11  hunt  those  sneak  thieves  into  h — 11 
but  what  he  '11  get  'em,  and,"  he  went  on 
still  more  slowly,  "  by  the  livin'  hokey !  I 
reckon,  sonny,  that 's  jest  how  ye  '11  get  your 
chance  to  chip  in  !  " 


26   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Brice  impa 
tiently. 

"  Well,"  said  Bill,  with  more  provoking 
slowness,  as  if  he  were  communing  with 
himself  rather  than  Brice,  "  Harry 's  mighty 
proud  and  high  toned,  and  to  be  given  away 
like  this  has  cut  down  into  his  heart,  you 
bet.  It  ain't  the  money  he's  thinkin'  of; 
it 's  this  split  in  the  gang  —  the  loss  of  his 
power  ez  boss,  ye  see  —  and  ef  he  could  get 
hold  o'  them  chaps  he  'd  let  the  money  slide 
ez  long  ez  they  didn't  get  it.  So  you  Ve 
got  a  detective  on  your  side  that 's  worth 
the  whole  police  force  of  Californy !  Ye 
never  heard  anything  about  Snapshot  Harry, 
did  ye  ? "  asked  Bill  carelessly,  raising  his 
eyes  to  Brice's  eager  face. 

The  young  man  flushed  slightly.  "  Very 
little,"  he  said.  At  the  same  time  a  vision 
of  the  pretty  girl  in  the  settler's  cabin 
flashed  upon  him  with  a  new  significance. 

"  He 's  more  than  half  white,  in  some 
ways,"  said  Bill  thoughtfully,  "  and  they  say 
he  lives  somewhere  about  here  in  a  cabin  in 
the  bush,  with  a  crippled  sister  and  her  dar 
ter,  who  both  swear  by  him.  It  might  n't 
be  hard  to  find  him  —  ef  a  man  was  dead 
set  on  it." 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   27 

Brice  faced  about  with  determined  eyes. 
"  I 'II  do  *Y,"  he  said  quietly. 

fc«  Ye  might,"  said  Bill,  still  more  deliber 
ately  stroking  his  beard, k*  mention  my  name, 
ef  ye  ever  get  to  see  him." 

"  Your  name,"  ejaculated  the  astonished 
Brice. 

"  My  name,"  repeated  Bill  calmly.  "  He 
knows  it 's  my  bounden  duty  to  kill  him  ef 
I  get  the  chance,  and  I  know  that  he  "d  plug 
me  full  o'  holes  in  a  minit  ef  thar  war  a 
necessity  for  it.  But  in  these  yer  affairs, 
sonny,  it  seems  to  be  the  understood  thing 
by  the  kempany  that  I  'in  to  keep  fiery 
young  squirts  like  you,  and  chuckle-headed 
passengers  like  them  "  —  jerking  his  thumb 
towards  the  other  room  —  4t  from  gettin' 
themselves  killed  by  their  rashness.  So 
on  til  the  kempany  fill  the  top  o'  that  coach 
with  men  who  ain't  got  any  business  to  do 
but  fightin*  other  men  who  ain't  got  any 
other  business  to  do  b ut  to  fight  them  —  the 
odds  are  agin  us  !  Harry  has  always  acted 
square  to  me  —  that  *s  how  I  know  he  ain't 
in  this  sneak-thief  business,  and  why  he 
did  n't  f oiler  us,  suspectin'  suthin',  and  I  've 
always  acted  square  to  him.  All  the  same, 


28   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

I  'd  like  ter  hev  seen  his  face  when  that  box 
was  opened  !  Lordy  !  "  Here  Bill  again 
collapsed  in  his  silent  paroxysm  of  mirth. 
"  Ye  might  tell  him  how  I  laughed  !  " 

"  I  would  hardly  do  that,  Bill,"  said  the 
young  man,  smiling  in  spite  of  himself. 
"  But  you  've  given  me  an  idea,  and  I  '11 
work  it  out." 

Bill  glanced  at  the  young  fellow's  kin 
dling  eyes  and  flushing  cheek,  and  nodded. 
"  Well,  rastle  with  that  idea  later  on,  sonny. 
I  '11  fix  you  all  right  in  my  report  to  the 
kempany,  but  the  rest  you  must  work  alone. 
I  've  started  out  the  usual  posse,  circus-ridin' 
down  the  road  after  Harry.  He  'd  be  a 
rough  customer  to  meet  just  now,"  contin 
ued  Bill,  with  a  chuckle,  "  ef  thar  was  the 
ghost  of  a  chance  o'  them  comin  up  with 
him,  for  him  and  his  gang  is  scattered  miles 
away  by  this."  Pie  paused,  tossed  off  an 
other  glass  of  whiskey,  wiped  his  mouth,  and 
saying  to  Brice,  with  a  wink,  "  It 's  about 
time  to  go  and  comfort  them  thar  passen 
gers,"  led  the  way  through  the  crowded  bar 
room  into  the  stage  office. 

The  spectacle  of  Bill's  humorously  satisfied 
face  and  Brice's  bright  eyes  and  heightened 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   29 

color  was  singularly  effective.  The  "  inside  " 
passengers,  who  had  experienced  neither  the 
excitement  nor  the  danger  of  the  robbery, 
yet  had  been  obliged  to  listen  to  the  hair 
breadth  escapes  of  the  others,  pooh-poohed 
the  whole  affair,  and  even  the  "  outsides  " 
themselves  were  at  last  convinced  that  the 
robbery  was  a  slight  one,  with  little  or  no 
loss  to  the  company.  The  clamor  subsided 
almost  as  suddenly  as  it  had  arisen;  the 
wiser  passengers  fashioned  their  attitude  on 
the  sang-froid  of  Yuba  Bill,  and  the  whole 
coach  load  presently  rolled  away  as  compla 
cently  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

II 

The  robbery  furnished  the  usual  amount 
of  copy  for  the  local  press.  There  was  the 
inevitable  compliment  to  Yuba  Bill  for  his 
well-known  coolness ;  the  conduct  of  the 
young  expressman,  "  who,  though  new  to 
the  service,  displayed  an  intrepidity  that 
only  succumbed  to  numbers,"  was  highly 
commended,  and  even  the  passengers  re 
ceived  their  meed  of  praise,  not  forgetting 
the  lady,  "  who  accepted  the  incident  with 


30   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

the  light-hearted  pleasantry  characteristic  of 
the  Californian  woman."  There  was  the 
usual  allusion  to  the  necessity  of  a  Vigilance 
Committee  to  cope  with  this  "  organized 
lawlessness,"  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the 
readers  of  "  The  Red  Dog  Clarion,"  however 
ready  to  lynch  a  horse  thief,  were  of  the 
opinion  that  rich  stage  express  companies 
were  quite  able  to  take  care  of  their  own 
property. 

It  was  with  full  cognizance  of  these  facts 
and  their  uselessness  to  him  that  the  next 
morning  Mr.  Ned  Brice  turned  from  the 
road  where  the  coach  had  just  halted  on  the 
previous  night  and  approached  the  settler's 
cabin.  If  a  little  less  sanguine  than  he  was 
in  Yuba  Bill's  presence,  he  was  still  dog 
gedly  inflexible  in  his  design,  whatever  it 
might  have  been,  for  he  had  not  revealed  it 
even  to  Yuba  Bill.  It  was  his  own ;  it  was 
probably  crude  and  youthful  in  its  direct 
ness,  but  for  that  reason  it  was  probably 
more  convincing  than  the  vacillations  of 
older  counsel. 

He  paused  a  moment  at  the  closed  door, 
conscious,  however,  of  some  hurried  move 
ment  within  which  signified  that  his  ap- 


A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       31 

proach  had  been  observed.  The  door  was 
opened,  and  disclosed  only  the  old  woman. 
The  same  dogged  expression  was  on  her  face 
as  when  he  had  last  seen  it,  with  the  addi 
tion  of  querulous  expectancy.  In  reply  to 
his  polite  "  Good-morning,"  she  abruptly 
faced  him  with  her  hands  still  on  the  door. 

"  Ye  kin  stop  right  there  !  Ef  yer  want 
ter  make  any  talk  about  this  yar  robbery,  ye 
might  ez  well  skedaddle  to  oncet,  for  we  ain't 
4  takin'  any '  to-day  !  " 

"I  have  no  wish  to  talk  about  the  rob 
bery,"  said  Brice  quietly,  "  and  as  far  as  I 
can  prevent  it,  you  will  not  be  troubled  by 
any  questions.  If  you  doubt  my  word  or 
the  intentions  of  the  company,  perhaps  you 
will  kindly  read  that." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  still  damp 
copy  of  "  The  Ked  Dog  Clarion  "  and  pointed 
to  a  paragraph. 

"  Wot 's  that  ?  "  she  said  querulously,  feel 
ing  for  her  spectacles. 

"Shall  I  read  it?" 

"  Go  on." 

He  read  it  slowly  aloud.  I  grieve  to  say 
it  had  been  jointly  concocted  the  night  be 
fore  at  the  office  of  the  "  Clarion  "  by  him- 


32   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

self  and  the  young  journalist  —  the  latter's 
assistance  being  his  own  personal  tribute  to 
the  graces  of  Miss  Flo.  It  read  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

"  The  greatest  assistance  was  rendered  by 
Hiram  Tarbox,  Esq.,  a  resident  of  the  vicin 
ity,  in  removing  the  obstruction,  which  was, 
no  doubt,  the  preliminary  work  of  some  of 
the  robber  gang,  and  in  providing  hospitality 
for  the  delayed  passengers.  In  fact,  but  for 
the  timely  warning  of  Yuba  Bill  by  Mr. 
Tarbox,  the  coach  might  have  crashed  into 
the  tree  at  that  dangerous  point,  and  an 
accident  ensued  more  disastrous  to  life  and 
limb  than  the  robbery  itself." 

The  sudden  and  unmistakable  delight  that 
expanded  the  old  woman's  mouth  was  so 
convincing  that  it  might  have  given  Brice 
a  tinge  of  remorse  over  the  success  of  his 
stratagem,  had  he  not  been  utterly  absorbed 
in  his  purpose.  "  Hiram  ! "  she  shouted 
suddenly. 

The  old  man  appeared  from  some  back 
door  with  a  promptness  that  proved  his  near 
proximity,  and  glanced  angrily  at  Brice  until 
he  caught  sight  of  his  wife's  face.  Then  his 
anger  changed  to  wonder. 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   33 

"  Read  that  again,  young  feller,"  she  said 
exultingly. 

Brice  re-read  the  paragraph  aloud  for  Mr. 
Tarbox's  benefit. 

"That  'ar  4  Hirain  Tarbox,  Esquire,' 
means  you,  Hiram,"  she  gasped,  in  delighted 
explanation. 

Hiram  seized  the  paper,  read  the  para 
graph  himself,  spread  out  the  whole  page, 
examined  it  carefully,  and  then  a  fatuous 
grin  began  slowly  to  extend  itself  over  his 
whole  face,  invading  his  eyes  and  ears,  until 
the  heavy,  harsh,  dogged  lines  of  his  nostrils 
and  jaws  had  utterly  disappeared. 

"  B'  gosh  !  "  he  said,  "  that  's  square  ! 
Kin  I  keep  it?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Brice.  "  I  brought  it 
for  you." 

"  Is  that  all  ye  came  for  ?  "  said  Hiram, 
with  sudden  suspicion. 

"  No,"  said  the  young  man  frankly.  Yet 
he  hesitated  a  moment  as  he  added,  "  I 
would  like  to  see  Miss  Flora." 

His  hesitation  and  heightened  color  were 
more  disarming  to  suspicion  than  the  most 
elaborate  and  carefully  prepared  indifference. 
With  their  knowledge  and  pride  in  their 


34       A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRTS 

relative's  fascinations  they  felt  it  could  have 
but  one  meaning !  Hiram  wiped  his  mouth 
with  his  hand,  assumed  a  demure  expression, 
glanced  at  his  wife,  and  answered :  — 

"  She  ain't  here  now." 

Mr.  Brice's  face  displayed  his  disappoint 
ment.  But  the  true  lover  holds  a  talisman 
potent  with  old  and  young.  Mrs.  Tarbox 
felt  a  sneaking  maternal  pity  for  this  sud 
denly  stricken  Strephon. 

"  She 's  gone  home,"  she  added  more 
gently  —  "  went  at  sun-up  this  mornin'." 

"  Home,"  repeated  Brice.  "  Where  's 
that?" 

Mrs.  Tarbox  looked  at  her  husband  and 
hesitated.  Then  she  said  —  a  little  in  her 
old  manner  —  "  Her  uncle's." 

"  Can  you  direct  me  the  way  there  ? " 
asked  Brice  simply. 

The  astonishment  in  their  faces  presently 
darkened  into  suspicion  again.  "  Ef  that 's 
your  little  game,"  began  Hiram,  with  a  lower 
ing  brow  — 

"  I  have  no  little  game  but  to  see  her  and 
speak  with  her,"  said  Brice  boldly.  "  I  am 
alone  and  unarmed,  as  you  see,"  he  contin 
ued,  pointing  to  his  empty  belt  and  small 


A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       35 

dispatch  bag  slung  on  his  shoulder,  "and 
certainly  unable  to  do  any  one  any  harm.  I 
am  willing  to  take  what  risks  there  are. 
And  as  no  one  knows  of  my  intention,  nor 
of  my  coming  here,  whatever  might  happen 
to  me,  no  one  need  know  it.  You  would  be 
safe  from  questioning." 

There  was  that  hopeful  determination  in 
his  manner  that  overrode  their  resigned  dog- 
gedness.  "  Ef  we  knew  how  to  direct  you 
thar,"  said  the  old  woman  cautiously,  "ye  M 
be  killed  outer  hand  afore  ye  even  set  eyes 
on  the  girl.  The  house  is  in  a  holler  with 
hills  kept  by  spies  ;  ye  'd  be  a  dead  man  as 
soon  as  ye  crossed  its  boundary." 

"  Wot  do  you  know  about  it  ?  "  inter 
rupted  her  husband  quickly,  in  querulous 
warning.  "  Wot  are  ye  talkin'  about  ?  " 

"  You  leave  me  alone,  Hiram !  I  ain't 
goin'  to  let  that  young  feller  get  popped  off 
without  a  show,  or  without  knowin'  jest  wot 
he 's  got  to  tackle,  nohow  ye  kin  fix  it ! 
And  can't  ye  see  he  's  bound  to  go,  whatever 
ye  says?  " 

Mr.  Tarbox  saw  this  fact  plainly  in 
Brice's  eyes,  and  hesitated. 

"  The  most  that  I  kin  tell  ye,"  he  said 


36   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

gloomily,  "  is  the  way  the  gal  takes  when 
she  goes  from  here,  but  how  far  it  is,  or  if  it 
ain't  a  blind,  I  can't  swar,  for  I  hev  n't  bin 
thar  myself,  and  Harry  never  comes  here 
but  on  an  off  night,  when  the  coach  ain't 
runnin'  and  thar  's  no  travel."  He  stopped 
suddenly  and  uneasily,  as  if  he  had  said  too 
much. 

"  Thar  ye  go,  Hiram,  and  ye  talk  of  others 
gabblin' !  So  ye  might  as  well  tell  the 
young  feller  how  that  thar  ain't  but  one  way, 
and  that 's  the  way  Harry  takes,  too,  when 
he  comes  yer  oncet  in  an  age  to  talk  to  his 
own  flesh  and  blood,  and  see  a  Christian 
face  that  ain't  agin  him !  " 

Mr.  Tarbox  was  silent.  "  Ye  know  whar 
the  tree  was  thrown  down  on  the  road,"  he 
said  at  last. 

"  Yes." 

"  The  mountain  rises  straight  up  on  the 
right  side  of  the  road,  all  hazel  brush  and 
thorn  —  whar  a  goat  could  n't  climb." 

«  Yes." 

"  But  that 's  a  lie !  for  thar 's  a  little  trail, 
not  a  foot  wide,  runs  up  from  the  road  for  a 
mile,  keepin'  it  in  view  all  the  while,  but 
bein'  hidden  by  the  brush.  Ye  kin  see  every- 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   37 

thing  from  thar,  and  hear  a  teamster  spit  on 
the  road." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Brice  impatiently. 

"Then  it  goes  up  and  over  the  ridge,  and 
down  the  other  side  into  a  little  gulch  until 
it  comes  to  the  canon  of  the  North  Fork, 
where  the  stage  road  crosses  over  the  bridge 
high  up.  The  trail  winds  round  the  bank 
of  the  Fork  and  comes  out  on  the  left  side 
of  the  stage  road  about  a  thousand  feet  be 
low  it.  That 's  the  valley  and  hollow  whar 
Harry  lives,  and  that 's  the  only  way  it  can 
be  found.  For  all  along  the  left  of  the  stage 
road  is  a  sheer  pitch  down  that  thousand 
feet,  whar  no  one  kin  git  up  or  down." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Brice,  with  sparkling 
eyes.  "  I  '11  find  my  way  all  right." 

"  And  when  ye  git  thar,  look  out  for  your 
self  !  "  put  in  the  woman  earnestly.  "  Ye 
may  have  regular  greenhorn's  luck  and  pick 
up  Flo  afore  ye  cross  the  boundary,  for 
she  's  that  bold  that  when  she  gets  lonesome 
o'  stayin'  thar  she  goes  wanderin'  out  o' 
bounds." 

"  Hev  ye  any  weppin,  —  any  shootin'-iron 
about  ye  ?  "  asked  Tarbox,  with  a  latent  sus 
picion. 


38       A   NIECE   OF    SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

The  young  man  smiled,  and  again  showed 
his  empty  belt.  "  None !  "  he  said  truth 
fully.  ^ 

"  I  ain't  sure  ef  that  ain't  the  safest 
thing  arter  all  with  a  shot  like  Harry,"  re 
marked  the  old  man  grimly.  "  Well,  so 
long !  "  he  added,  and  turned  away. 

It  was  clearly  a  leave-taking,  and  Brice, 
warmly  thanking  them  both,  returned  to  the 
road. 

It  was  not  far  to  the  scene  of  the  obstruc 
tion,  yet  but  for  Tarbox's  timely  hint,  the 
little  trail  up  the  mountain  side  would  have 
escaped  his  observation.  Ascending,  he  soon 
found  himself  creeping  along  a  narrow  ledge 
of  rock,  hidden  from  the  road  that  ran  fifty 
yards  below  by  a  thick  network  growth  of 
thorn  and  bramble,  which  still  enabled  him 
to  see  its  whole  parallel  length.  Perilous  in 
the  extreme  to  any  hesitating  foot,  at  one 
point,  directly  above  the  obstruction,  the 
ledge  itself  was  missing  —  broken  away  by 
the  fall  of  the  tree  from  the  forest  crest 
higher  up.  For  an  instant  Brice  stood 
dizzy  and  irresolute  before  the  gap.  Look 
ing  down  for  a  foothold,  his  eye  caught  the 
faint  imprint  of  a  woman's  shoe  on  a  clayey 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   39 

rock  projecting  midway  of  the  chasm.  It 
must  have  been  the  young  girl's  footprint 
made  that  morning,  for  the  narrow  toe  was 
pointed  in  the  direction  she  would  go  ! 
Where  she  could  pass  should  he  shrink 
from  going  ?  Without  further  hesitation  he 
twined  his  fingers  around  the  roots  above 
him,  and  half  swung,  half  pulled  himself 
along  until  he  once  more  felt  the  ledge 
below  him. 

From  time  to  time,  as  he  went  on  along 
the  difficult  track,  the  narrow  little  toe-print 
pointed  the  way  to  him,  like  an  arrow  through 
the  wilds.  It  was  a  pleasant  thought,  and 
yet  a  perplexing  one.  Would  he  have  un 
dertaken  this  quest  just  to  see  her  ?  Would 
he  be  content  with  that  if  his 'other  motive 
failed  ?  For  as  he  made  his  way  up  to  the 
ridge  he  was  more  than  once  assailed  by 
doubts  of  the  practical  success  of  his  enter 
prise.  In  the  excitement  of  last  night,  and 
even  the  hopefulness  of  the  early  morning,  it 
seemed  an  easy  thing  to  persuade  the  vain 
and  eccentric  highwayman  that  their  inter 
ests  might  be  identical,  and  to  convince  him 
that  his,  Brice's,  assistance  to  recover  the 
stolen  greenbacks  and  insure  the  punishment 


40   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

of  the  robber,  with  the  possible  addition  of  a 
reward  from  the  express  company,  would  be 
an  inducement  for  them  to  work  together. 
The  risks  that  he  was  running  seemed  to  his 
youthful  fancy  to  atone  for  any  defects  in 
his  logic  or  his  plans.  Yet  as  he  crossed  the 
ridge,  leaving  the  civilized  highway  behind 
him,  and  descended  the  narrow  trail,  which 
grew  wilder  at  each  step,  his  arguments 
seemed  no  longer  so  convincing.  He  now 
hurried  forward,  however,  with  a  feverish 
haste  to  anticipate  the  worst  that  might  be 
fall  him. 

The  trail  grew  more  intricate  in  the  deep 
ferns ;  the  friendly  little  footprint  had  van 
ished  in  this  primeval  wilderness.  As  he 
pushed  through  the  gorge,  he  could  hear  at 
last  the  roar  of  the  North  Fork  forcing  its 
way  through  the  canon  that  crossed  the 
gorge  at  right  angles.  At  last  he  reached 
its  current,  shut  in  by  two  narrow  precipi 
tous  walls  that  were  spanned  five  hundred 
feet  above  by  the  stage  road  over  a  perilous 
bridge.  As  he  approached  the  gloomy 
canon,  he  remembered  that  the  river,  seen 
from  above,  seemed  to  have  no  banks,  but 
to  have  cut  its  way  through  the  solid  rock. 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   41 

He  found,  however,  a  faint  ledge  made  by 
caught  driftwood  from  the  current  and  the 
debris  of  the  overhanging  cliffs.  Again  the 
narrow  footprint  on  the  ooze  was  his  guide. 
At  last,  emerging  from  the  canon,  a  strange 
view  burst  upon  his  sight.  The  river  turned 
abruptly  to  the  right,  and,  following  the 
mountain  side,  left  a  small  hollow  completely 
walled  in  by  the  surrounding  heights.  To 
his  left  was  the  ridge  he  had  descended 
from  on  the  other  side,  and  he  now  under 
stood  the  singular  detour  he  had  made.  He 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  stage  road  also, 
which  ran  along  the  mountain  shelf  a  thou 
sand  feet  above  him.  The  wall,  a  sheer  cliff, 
made  the  hollow  inaccessible  from  that  side. 
Little  hills  covered  with  buckeye  encom 
passed  it.  It  looked  like  a  sylvan  retreat, 
and  yet  was  as  secure  in  its  isolation  and 
approaches  as  the  outlaw's  den  that  it  was. 

He  was  gazing  at  the  singular  prospect 
when  a  shot  rang  in  the  air.  It  seemed  to 
come  from  a  distance,  and  he  interpreted  it 
as  a  signal.  But  it  was  followed  presently 
by  another ;  and  putting  his  hand  to  his  hat 
to  keep  it  from  falling,  he  found  that  the 
upturned  brim  had  been  pierced  by  a  bullet. 


42   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

He  stopped  at  this  evident  hint,  and,  taking 
his  dispatch  bag  from  his  shoulder,  placed 
it  significantly  upon  a  boulder,  and  looked 
around  as  if  to  await  the  appearance  of  the 
unseen  marksman.  The  rifle  shot  rang  out 
again,  the  bag  quivered,  and  turned  over 
with  a  bullet  hole  through  it ! 

He  took  out  his  white  handkerchief  and 
waved  it.  Another  shot  followed,  and  the 
handkerchief  was  snapped  from  his  fingers, 
torn  from  corner  to  corner.  A  feeling  of 
desperation  and  fury  seized  him;  he  was 
being  played  with  by  a  masked  and  skillful 
assassin,  who  only  waited  until  it  pleased 
him  to  fire  the  deadly  shot !  But  this  time 
he  could  see  the  rifle  smoke  drifting  from 
under  a  sycamore  not  a  hundred  yards  away. 
He  set  his  white  lips  together,  but  with  a 
determined  face  and  unfaltering  step  walked 
directly  towards  it.  In  another  moment  he 
believed  and  almost  hoped  that  all  would 
be  over.  With  such  a  marksman  he  would 
not  be  maimed,  but  killed  outright. 

He  had  not  covered  half  the  distance 
before  a  man  lounged  out  from  behind  the 
tree  carelessly  shouldering  his  rifle.  He 
was  tall  but  slightly  built,  with  an  amused, 


A   NIECE    OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       43 

critical  manner,  and  nothing  about  him  to 
suggest  the  bloodthirsty  assassin.  He  met 
Brice  halfway,  dropping  his  rifle  slantingly 
across  his  breast  with  his  hands  lightly 
grasping  the  lock,  and  gazed  at  the  young 
man  curiously. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  'd  had  a  big  scare, 
old  man,  but  you  've  clear  grit  for  all  that !  " 
he  said,  with  a  critical  and  reassuring  smile. 
"Now,  what  are  you  doing  here?  Stay," 
he  continued,  as  Brice' s  parched  lips  pre 
vented  him  from  replying  immediately.  "  I 
ought  to  know  your  face.  Hello !  you  're 
the  expressman ! "  His  glance  suddenly 
shifted,  and  swept  past  Brice  over  the 
ground  beyond  him  to  the  entrance  of  the 
hollow,  but  his  smile  returned  as  he  appar 
ently  satisfied  himself  that  the  young  man 
was  alone.  "  "Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  see  Snapshot  Harry,"  said 
Brice,  with  an  effort.  His  voice  came  back 
more  slowly  than  his  color,  but  that  was 
perhaps  hurried  by  a  sense  of  shame  at  his 
physical  weakness. 

"  What  you  want  is  a  drop  o'  whiskey," 
said  the  stranger  good  humoredly,  taking 
his  arm,  "  and  we  '11  find  it  in  that  shanty 


44   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

just  behind  the  tree."  To  Brice's  surprise, 
a  few  steps  in  that  direction  revealed  a 
fair-sized  cabin,  with  a  slight  pretentious 
ness  about  it  of  neatness,  comfort,  and  pic 
turesque  effect,  far  superior  to  the  Tarbox 
shanty.  A  few  flowers  were  in  boxes  on 
the  window  —  signs,  as  Brice  fancied,  of 
feminine  taste.  When  they  reached  the 
threshold,  somewhat  of  this  quality  was  also 
visible  in  the  interior.  When  Brice  had 
partaken  of  the  whiskey,  the  stranger,  who 
had  kept  silence,  pointed  to  a  chair,  and 
said  smilingly :  — 

"I  am  Henry  Dimwood,  alias  Snapshot 
Harry,  and  this  is  my  house." 

"I  came  to  speak  with  you  about  the 
robbery  of  greenbacks  from  the  coach  last 
night,"  began  Brice  hurriedly,  with  a  sud 
den  access  of  hope  at  his  reception.  "  I 
mean,  of  course,"  —  he  stopped  and  hesi 
tated,  — "  the  actual  robbery  before  you 
stopped  us." 

"  What !  "  said  Harry,  springing  to  his 
feet,  "  do  you  mean  to  say  you  knew  it  ?  " 

Brice's  heart  sank,  but  he  remained  stead 
fast  and  truthful.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  knew 
it  when  I  handed  down  the  box.  I  saw  that 


A  NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       45 

the  lock  had  been  forced,  but  I  snapped  it 
together  again.  It  was  my  fault.  Perhaps 
I  should  have  warned  you,  but  I  am  solely 
to  blame." 

"  Did  Yuba  Bill  know  of  it  ?  "  asked  the 
highwayman,  with  singular  excitement. 

"  Not  at  the  time,  I  give  you  my  word !  " 
replied  Brice  quickly,  thinking  only  of  loy 
alty  to  his  old  comrade.  "  I  never  told  him 
till  we  reached  the  station." 

"  And  he  knew  it  then  ?  "  repeated  Harry 
eagerly. 
.   "Yes." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  ?  Did  he  do  any 
thing  ?  Did  he  look  astonished  ?  " 

Brice  remembered  Bill's  uncontrollable 
merriment,  but  replied  vaguely  and  diplo 
matically,  "  He  was  certainly  astonished." 

A  laugh  gathered  in  Snapshot  Harry's 
eyes  which  at  last  overspread  his  whole  face, 
and  finally  shook  his  frame  as  he  sat  help 
lessly  down  again.  Then,  wiping  his  eyes, 
he  said  in  a  shaky  voice :  — 

"  It  would  have  been  sure  death  to  have 
trusted  myself  near  that  station,  but  I  think 
I  'd  have  risked  it  just  to  have  seen  Bill's 
face  when  you  told  him  !  Just  think  of  it ! 


46   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

Bill,  who  was  a  match  for  anybody !  Bill, 
who  was  never  caught  napping !  Bill,  who 
only  wanted  supreme  control  of  things  to 
wipe  me  off  the  face  of  the  earth!  Bill, 
who  knew  how  everything  was  done,  and 
could  stop  it  if  he  chose,  and  then  to  have 
been  robbed  twice  in  one  evening  by  my 
gang!  Yes,  sir!  Yuba  Bill  and  his  rot 
ten  old  coach  were  gone,  through  twice  in 
side  half  an  hour  by  the  gang !  " 

"  Then  you  knew  of  it  too  ?  "  said  Brice, 
in  uneasy  astonishment. 

"Afterwards,  my  young  friend  —  like 
Yuba  Bill  —  afterwards."  He  stopped  ; 
his  whole  expression  changed.  "It  was 
done  by  two  sneaking  hounds,"  he  said 
sharply;  "one  whom  I  suspected  before, 
and  one,  a  new  hand,  a  pal  of  his.  They 
were  detached  to  watch  the  coach  and  be 
satisfied  that  the  greenbacks  were  aboard, 
for  it  is  n't  my  style  to  '  hold  up '  except  for 
something  special.  They  were  to  take  seats 
on  the  coach  as  far  as  Kingwood  Station, 
three  miles  below  where  we  held  you  up,  and 
to  get  out  there  and  pass  the  word  to  us 
that  it  was  all  right.  They  didn't;  that 
made  us  a  little  extra  careful,  seeing  some- 


A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       47 

thing  was  wrong,  but  never  suspecting 
them.  We  found  out  afterwards  that  they 
got  one  of  my  scouts  to  cut  down  that  tree, 
saying  it  was  my  orders  and  a  part  of  our 
game,  calculating  in  the  stoppage  and  con 
fusion  to  collar  the  swag  and  get  off  with  it. 
Without  knowing  it,  you  played  into  their 
hands  by  going  into  Tarbox's  cabin." 

"  But  how  did  you  know  this  ? "  inter 
rupted  Brice,  in  wonder. 

"  They  forgot  one  thing,"  continued  Snap 
shot  Harry  grimly.  "  They  forgot  that  half 
an  hour  before  and  half  an  hour  after  a  stage 
is  stopped  we  have  that  road  patrolled,  every 
foot  of  it.  While  I  was  opening  the  box 
in  the  brush,  the  two  fools,  sneaking  along 
the  road,  came  slap  upon  one  of  my  patrols, 
and  then  tried  to  run  for  it.  One  was 
dropped,  but  before  he  was  plugged  full  of 
holes  and  hung  up  on  a  tree,  he  confessed, 
and  said  the  other  man  who  escaped  had 
the  greenbacks." 

Brice's  face  fell.  "  Then  they  are  lost," 
he  said  bitterly. 

"  Not  unless  he  eats  them  —  as  he  may 
want  to  do  before  I  'm  done  on  him,  for 
he  must  either  starve  or  come  out.  That 


48       A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

road  is  still  watched  by  my  men  from  Tar- 
box's  cabin  to  the  bridge.  He  's  there  some 
where,  and  can't  get  forward  or  backward. 
Look  !  "  he  said,  rising  and  going  to  the 
door.  "  That  road,"  he  pointed  to  the  stage 
road,  —  a  narrow  ledge  flanked  on  one  side 
by  a  precipitous  mountain  wall,  and  on  the 
other  by  an  equally  precipitate  descent,  — 
"  is  his  limit  and  tether,  and  he  can't 
escape  on  either  side." 

"But  the  trail?" 

"  There  is  but  one  entrance  to  it,  —  the 
way  you  came,  and  that  is  guarded  too. 
From  the  time  you  entered  it  until  you 
reached  the  bottom,  you  were  signaled  here 
from  point  to  point !  He  would  have  been 
dropped !  I  merely  gave  you  a  hint  of  what 
might  have  happened  to  you,  if  you  were 
up  to  any  little  game !  You  took  it  like  a 
white  man.  Come,  now!  What  is  your 
business  ?  " 

Thus  challenged,  Brice  plunged  with 
youthful  hopefulness  into  his  plan ;  if,  as  he 
voiced  it,  it  seemed  to  him  a  little  extrava 
gant,  he  was  buoyed  up  by  the  frankness  of 
the  highwayman,  who  also  had  treated  the 
double  robbery  with  a  levity  that  seemed 


A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       49 

almost  as  extravagant.  He  suggested  that 
they  should  work  together  to  recover  the 
money;  that  the  express  company  shoidd 
know  that  the  unprecedented  stealthy  intro 
duction  of  robbers  in  the  guise  of  passen 
gers  was  not  Snapshot  Harry's  method,  and 
he  repudiated  it  as  unmanly  and  unsports 
manlike  ;  and  that,  by  using  his  superior 
skill  and  knowledge  of  the  locality  to  re 
cover  the  money  and  deliver  the  culprit  into 
the  company's  hands,  he  would  not  only 
earn  the  reward  that  they  should  offer,  but 
that  he  would  evoke  a  sentiment  that  all 
Californians  would  understand  and  respect. 
The  highwayman  listened  with  a  tolerant 
smile,  but,  to  Briee's  surprise,  this  appeal 
to  his  vanity  touched  him  less  than  the  pro 
spective  punishment  of  the  thief. 

"  It  would  serve  the  d — d  hound  right," 
he  muttered,  "  if,  instead  of  being  shot  like 
a  man,  he  was  made  to  '  do  time '  in  prison, 
like  the  ordinary  sneak  thief  that  he  is." 
When  Brice  had  concluded,  he  said  briefly, 
"  The  only  trouble  with  your  plans,  my 
young  friend,  is  that  about  twenty-five  men 
have  got  to  consider  them,  and  have  their 
say  about  it.  Every  man  in  my  gang  is  a 


50   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

shareholder  in  these  greenbacks,  for  I  work 
on  the  square ;  and  it 's  for  him  to  say 
whether  he  '11  give  them  up  for  a  reward 
and  the  good  opinion  of  the  express  company. 
Perhaps,"  he  went  on,  with  a  peculiar  smile, 
"  it 's  just  as  well  that  you  tried  it  on  me 
first !  However,  I  '11  sound  the  boys,  and 
see  what  comes  of  it,  but  not  until  you  're 
safe  off  the  premises." 

"  And  you  '11  let  me  assist  you  ? "  said 
Brice  eagerly. 

Snapshot  Harry  smiled  again.  "  Well,  if 
you  come  across  the  d — d  thief,  and  you 
recognize  him  and  can  get  the  greenbacks 
from  him,  I  '11  pass  over  the  game  to  you." 
He  rose  and  added,  apparently  by  way  of 
farewell,  "  Perhaps  it 's  just  as  well  that  I 
should  give  you  a  guide  part  of  the  way  to 
prevent  accidents."  He  went  to  a  door  lead 
ing  to  an  adjoining  room,  and  called  "  Flo !  " 

Brice' s  heart  leaped  !  If  he  had  forgotten 
her  in  the  excitement  of  his  interview,  he 
atoned  for  it  by  a  vivid  blush.  Her  own 
color  was  a  little  heightened  as  she  slipped 
into  the  room,  but  the  two  managed  to  look 
demurely  at  each  other,  without  a  word  of 
recognition. 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   51 

"  This  is  my  niece,  Flora,"  said  Snapshot 
Harry,  with  a  slight  wave  of  the  hand  that 
was  by  no  means  imconrtly,  4>  and  her  com 
pany  will  keep  you  from  any  impertinent 
questioning  as  well  as  if  I  were  with  you. 
This  is  Mr.  Brice,  Flo,  who  came  to  see 
me  on  business,  and  has  quite  forgotten  my 
practical  joking." 

The  girl  acknowledged  Brice's  bow  with  a 
shyness  very  different  from  her  manner  of 
the  evening  before.  Brice  felt  embarrassed 
and  evidently  showed  it,  for  his  host,  with  a 
smile,  put  an  end  to  the  constraint  by  shak 
ing  the  young  man's  hand  heartily,  bidding 
him  good-by,  and  accompanying  him  to  the 
door. 

Once  on  their  way,  Mr.  Brice's  spirits 
returned.  "  I  told  you  last  night,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  hoped  to  meet  you  the  next  time 
with  a  better  introduction.  You  suggested 
your  uncle's.  "Well,  are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  But  you  did  n't  come  to  see  we,"  said 
the  girl  mischievously. 

"How  do  you  know  what  my  intentions 
were  ?  "  returned  the  young  man  gayly,  gazing 
at  the  girl's  charming  face  with  a  serious 
doubt  as  to  the  singleness  of  his  own  inten 
tions. 


52       A  NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

"  Oh,  because  I  know,"  she  answered, 
with  a  toss  of  her  brown  head.  "  I  heard 
what  you  said  to  uncle  Harry." 

Mr.  Brice's  brow  contracted.  "  Perhaps 
you  saw  me,  too,  when  I  came,"  he  said,  with 
a  slight  touch  of  bitterness  as  he  thought  of 
his  reception. 

Miss  Flo  laughed.  Brice  walked  on  si 
lently  ;  the  girl  was  heartless  and  worthy  of 
her  education.  After  a  pause  she  said  de 
murely,  "/  knew  he  would  n't  hurt  you  — 
but  you  did  n't.  That 's  where  you  showed 
your  grit  in  walking  straight  on." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  were  greatly  amused," 
he  replied  scornfully. 

The  girl  lifted  her  arms  a  little  wearily,  as 
with  a  half  sigh  she  readjusted  her  brown 
braids  under  her  uncle's  gray  slouch  hat, 
which  she  had  caught  up  as  she  passed  out. 
"  Thar  ain't  much  to  laugh  at  here ! "  she 
said.  "  But  it  was  mighty  funny  when  you 
tried  to  put  your  hat  straight,  and  then 
found  thar  was  that  bullet  hole  right  through 
the  brim  !  And  the  way  you  stared  at  it  — 
Lordy !  " 

Her  musical  laugh  was  infectious,  and 
swept  away  his  outraged  dignity.  He  laughed 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   53 

too.  At  last  she  said,  gazing  at  his  hat,  "  It 
won't  do  for  you  to  go  back  to  your  folks 
wearin'  that  sort  o'  thing.  Here !  Take 
mine !  "  With  a  saucy  movement  she  au 
daciously  lifted  his  hat  from  his  head,  and 
placed  her  own  upon  it. 

"  But  this  is  your  uncle's  hat,"  he  remon 
strated. 

"  All  the  same  ;  he  spoiled  yours,"  she 
laughed,  adjusting  his  hat  upon  her  own  head. 
44  But  I  '11  keep  yours  to  remember  you  by. 
I  '11  loop  it  up  by  this  hole,  and  it  '11  look 
mighty  purty.  Jes'  see  !  "  She  plucked  a 
wild  rose  from  a  bush  by  the  wayside,  and, 
passing  the  stalk  through  the  bullet  hole, 
pinned  the  brim  against  the  crown  by  a 
thorn.  "There,"  she  said,  putting  on  the 
hat  again  with  a  little  affectation  of  co 
quetry,  "  how  's  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Brice  thought  it  very  picturesque  and 
becoming  to  the  graceful  head  and  laughing 
eyes  beneath  it,  and  said  so.  Then,  becom 
ing  in  his  turn  audacious,  he  drew  nearer  to 
her  side. 

44 1  suppose  you  know  the  forfeit  of  put 
ting  on  a  gentleman's  hat  ?  " 

Apparently  she  did,  for  she  suddenly  made 


54   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

a  warning  gesture,  and  said,  "  Not  here ! 
It  would  be  a  bigger  forfeit  than  you  'd  keer 
fo'."  Before  he  could  reply  she  turned  aside 
as  if  quite  innocently,  and  passed  into  the 
shade  of  a  fringe  of  buckeyes.  He  followed 
quickly.  "  I  did  n't  mean  that,"  she  said  ; 
but  in  the  mean  time  he  had  kissed  the  pink 
tip  of  her  ear  under  its  brown  coils.  He 
was,  nevertheless,  somewhat  discomfited  by 
her  undisturbed  manner  and  serene  face. 
"  Ye  don't  seem  to  mind  bein'  shot  at,"  she 
said,  with  an  odd  smile,  "  but  it  won't  do  for 
you  to  kalkilate  that  everybody  shoots  as 
keerfully  as  uncle  Harry." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  replied,  struck 
by  her  manner. 

"  Ye  ain't  very  complimentary,  or  you  'd 
allow  that  other  folks  might  be  wantin'  what 
you  took  just  now,  and  might  consider  you 
was  poachin',"  she  returned  gravely.  "  My 
best  and  strongest  holt  among  those  men  is 
that  uncle  Harry  would  kill  the  first  one 
who  tried  anything  like  that  on  —  and  they 
know  it.  That 's  how  I  get  all  the  liberty  I 
want  here,  and  can  come  and  go  alone  as  I 
like." 

Brice's  face  flushed  quickly  with  genuine 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   55 

shame  and  remorse.  "  Do  forgive  me,"  he 
said  hurriedly.  "  I  did  n't  think  —  I  'm  a 
brute  and  a  fool !  " 

"  Uncle  Harry  allowed  you  was  either 
drunk  or  a  born  idiot  when  you  was  prome- 
nadin'  into  the  valley  just  now,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile. 

"  And  what  did  you  think  ?  "  he  asked  a 
little  uneasily. 

"  I  thought  you  did  n't  look  like  a  drinkin' 
man,"  she  answered  audaciously. 

Brice  bit  his  lip  and  walked  on  silently, 
at  which  she  cast  a  sidelong  glance  under 
her  widely  spaced  heavy  lashes  and  said  de 
murely,  "  I  thought  last  night  it  was  mighty 
good  for  you  to '  stand  up  for  your  f rien' 
Yuba  Bill,  and  then,  after  ye  knew  who  / 
was,  to  let  the  folks  see  you  kinder  cottoned 
to  me  too.  Not  in  the  style  o'  that  land- 
grabber  Heckshill,  nor  that  peart  newspa 
per  man,  neither.  Of  course  I  gave  them  as 
good  as  they  sent,"  she  went  on,  with  a  little 
laugh,  but  Brice  could  see  that  her  sensi 
tive  lip  in  profile  had  the  tremulous  and 
resentful  curve  of  one  who  was  accustomed 
to  slight  and  annoyance.  Was  it  possible 
that  this  reckless,  self-contained  girl  felt  her 
position  keenly? 


56   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

"  I  am  proud  to  have  your  good  opin 
ion,"  he  said,  with  a  certain  respect  mingled 
with  his  admiring  glance,  "  even  if  I  have 
not  your  uncle's." 

"  Oh,  he  likes  you  well  enough,  or  he 
would  n't  have  hearkened  to  you  a  minute," 
she  said  quickly.  "  When  you  opened  out 
about  them  greenbacks,  I  jes'  clutched  my 
cheer  so,"  —  she  illustrated  her  words  with 
a  gesture  of  her  hands,  and  her  face  actu 
ally  seemed  to  grow  pale  at  the  recollection, 
—  "  and  I  nigh  started  up  to  stop  ye ;  but 
that  idea  of  Yuba  Bill  bein'  robbed  twice  I 
think  tickled  him  awful.  But  it  was  lucky 
none  o'  the  gang  heard  ye  or  suspected  any 
thing.  I  reckon  that 's  why  he  sent  me  with 
you,  —  to  keep  them  from  doggin'  you  and 
askin'  questions  that  a  straight  man  like  you 
would  be  sure  to  answer.  But  they  dare  n't 
come  nigh  ye  as  long  as  I  'm  with  you ! " 
She  threw  back  her  head  and  rose-crested 
hat  with  a  mock  air  of  protection  that,  how 
ever,  had  a  certain  real  pride  in  it. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that,  if  it  gives  me 
the  chance  of  having  your  company  alone," 
returned  Brice,  smiling,  "  and  very  grateful 
to  your  uncle,  whatever  were  his  reasons  for 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRTS   57 

making  you  my  guide.  But  you  have  al 
ready  been  that  to  me,"  and  he  told  her  of 
the  footprints.  "But  for  you,"  he  added, 
with  gentle  significance,  "  I  should  not  have 
been  here." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  he 
could  only  see  the  back  of  her  head  and  its 
heavy  brown  coils.  After  a  pause  she  asked 
abruptly,  "  Where  's  your  handkerchief?  " 

He  took  it  from  his  pocket ;  her  ingen 
ious  uncle's  bullet  had  torn  rather  than 
pierced  the  cambric. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  said,  gravely  e^xamin- 
irig  it,  "  but  I  kin  mend  it  as  good  as  new. 
I  reckon  you  allow  I  can't  sew,"  she  contin 
ued,  "  but  I  do  heaps  of  mendin',  as  the 
digger  squaw  and  Chinamen  we  have  here 
do  only  the  coarser  work.  I  '11  send  it  back 
to  you,  and  mean  whiles  you  keep  mine." 

She  drew  a  handkerchief  from  her  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  him.  To  his  great  sur 
prise  it  was  a  delicate  one,  beautifully  em 
broidered,  and  utterly  incongruous  to  her 
station.  The  idea  that  flashed  upon  him,  it 
is  to  be  feared,  showed  itself  momentarily  in 
his  hesitation  and  embarrassment. 

She   gave   a   quick    laugh.     "  Don't    be 


58   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

frightened.  It  's  bought  and  paid  for. 
Uncle  Harry  don't  touch  passengers'  fixin's ; 
that  ain't  his  style.  You  oughter  know 
that."  Yet  in  spite  of  her  laugh,  he  could 
see  the  sensitive  pout  of  her  lower  lip. 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  he  said  hurriedly 
and  sympathetically,  "  that  it  was  too  fine 
for  me.  But  I  will  be  proud  to  keep  it  as 
a  souvenir  of  you.  It 's  not  too  pretty  for 
that !  " 

"  Uncle  gets  me  these  things.  He  don't 
keer  what  they  cost,"  she  went  on,  ignoring 
the  compliment.  "  Why,  I  've  got  awfully 
fine  gowns  up  there  that  I  only  wear  when 
I  go  to  Marysville  oncet  in  a  while." 

"  Does  he  take  you  there  ?  "  asked  Brice. 

"  No  !  "  she  answered  quietly.  "  Not "  — 
a  little  defiantly  —  "  that  he  's  afeard,  for 
they  can't  prove  anything  against  him  ;  no 
man  kin  swear  to  him,  and  thar  ain't  an 
officer  that  keers  to  go  for  him.  But  he  's 
that  shy  for  me  he  don't  keer  to  have  me 
mixed  with  him." 

"  But  nobody  recognizes  you  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  —  but  I  don't  keer  for  that." 
She  cocked  her  hat  a  little  audaciously,  but 
Brice  noticed  that  her  arms  afterwards 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   59 

dropped  at  her  side  with  the  same  weary  ges 
ture  he  had  observed  before.  "  Whenever 
I  go  into  shops  it 's  always  c  Yes,  miss,'  and 
'  No,  miss,'  and  4  Certainly,  Miss  Dun  wood.' 
Oh,  they  're  mighty  respectful.  I  reckon  they 
allow  that  Snapshot  Harry's  rifle  carries 
far." 

Presently  she  faced  him  again,  for  their 
conversation  had  been  carried  on  in  profile. 
There  was  a  critical,  searching  look  in  her 
brown  eyes. 

"  Here  I  'm  talkin'  to  you  as  if  you  were 
one "  —  Mr.  Brice  was  positive  she  was 
going  to  say  "  one  of  the  gang,"  but  she 
hesitated  and  concluded,  "one  of  my  rela 
tions —  like  cousin  Hiram." 

"  I  wish  you  would  think  of  me  as  being 
as  true  a  friend,"  said  the  young  man  ear 
nestly. 

She  did  not  reply  immediately,  but  seemed 
to  be  examining  the  distance.  They  were 
not  far  from  the  canon  now,  and  the  river 
bank.  A  fringe  of  buckeyes  hid  the  base 
of  the  mountain,  which  had  begun  to  tower 
up  above  them  to  the  invisible  stage  road 
overhead.  4'  I  am  going  to  be  a  real  guide 
to  you  now,"  she  said  suddenly.  "  When 


60   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

we  reach  that  buckeye  corner  and  are  out  of 
sight,  we  will  turn  into  it  instead  of  going 
through  the  canon.  You  shall  go  up  the 
mountain  to  the  stage  road,  from  this  side." 

"  But  it  is  impossible !  "  he  exclaimed,  in 
astonishment.  "  Your  uncle  said  so." 

"  Coming  down,  but  not  going  up,"  she 
returned,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  found  it,  and 
no  one  knows  it  but  myself." 

He  glanced  up  at  the  towering  cliff ;  its 
nearly  perpendicular  flanks  were  seamed  with 
fissures,  some  clefts  deeply  set  with  stunted 
growths  of  thorn  and  "  scrub,"  but  still  sheer 
and  forbidding,  and  then  glanced  back  at  her 
incredulously.  "  I  will  show  you,"  she  said, 
answering  his  look  with  a  smile  of  triumph. 
"  I  have  n't  tramped  over  this  whole  valley 
for  nothing  !  But  wait  until  we  reach  the 
river  bank.  They  must  think  that  we've 
gone  through  the  canon." 

"  They  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  any  one  who  is  watching  us," 
said  the  girl  dryly. 

A  few  steps  further  on  brought  them  to 
the  buckeye  thicket,  which  extended  to  the 
river  bank  and  mouth  o£  the  canon.  The 
girl  lingered  for  a  moment  ostentatiously  be- 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   61 

fore  it,  and  then,  saying  "  Come,"  suddenly 
turned  at  right  angles  into  the  thicket.  Brice 
followed,  and  the  next  moment  they  were  hid 
den  by  its  friendly  screen  from  the  valley. 
On  the  other  side  rose  the  mountain  wall, 
leaving  a  narrow  trail  before  them.  It  was 
composed  of  the  rocky  debris  and  fallen  trees 
of  the  cliff,  from  which  buckeyes  and  larches 
were  now  springing.  It  was  uneven,  irreg 
ular,  and  slowly  ascending ;  but  the  young 
girl  led  the  way  with  the  free  footstep  of  a 
mountaineer,  and  yet  a  grace  that  was  akin 
to^  delicacy.  Nor  could  he  fail  to  notice 
that,  after  the  Western  girl's  fashion,  she 
was  shod  more  elegantly  and  lightly  than  was 
consistent  with  the  rude  and  rustic  surround 
ings.  It  was  the  same  slim  shoe-print  which 
had  guided  him  that  morning.  Presently 
she  stopped,  and  seemed  to  be  gazing  curi 
ously  at  the  cliff  side.  Brice  followed  the 
direction  of  her  eyes.  On  a  protruding 
bush  at  the  edge  of  one  of  the  wooded  clefts 
of  the  mountain  flank  something  was  hang 
ing,  and  in  the  freshening  southerly  wind 
was  flapping  heavily,  like  a  raven's  wing,  or 
as  if  still  saturated  with  the  last  night's  rain. 
"  That 's  mighty  queer  !  "  said  Flo,  gazing 


62   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

intently  at  the  unsightly  and  incongruous 
attachment  to  the  shrub,  which  had  a  vague, 
weird  suggestion.  "  It  was  n't  there  yester 
day." 

"  It  looks  like  a  man's  coat,"  remarked 
Brice  uneasily. 

"  Whew  !  "  said  the  girl.  "  Then  some 
body  has  come  down  who  won't  go  up  again  ! 
There  's  a  lot  of  fresh  rocks  and  brush  here, 
too.  What 's  that  ?  "  She  was  pointing  to 
a  spot  some  yards  before  them  where  there 
had  been  a  recent  precipitation  of  debris 
and  uprooted  shrubs.  But  mingled  with  it 
lay  a  mass  of  rags  strangely  akin  to  the  tat 
tered  remnant  that  flagged  from  the  bush 
a  hundred  feet  above  them.  The  girl 
suddenly  uttered  a  sharp  feminine  cry  of 
mingled  horror  and  disgust,  —  the  first 
weakness  of  sex  she  had  shown,  —  and, 
recoiling,  grasped  Brice's  arm.  "  Don't  go 
there  !  Come  away !  " 

But  Brice  had  already  seen  that  which, 
while  it  shocked  him,  was  urging  him  for 
ward  with  an  invincible  fascination.  Gently 
releasing  himself,  and  bidding  the  girl  stand 
back,  he  moved  toward  the  unsightly  heap. 
Gradually  it  disclosed  a  grotesque  carica- 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   63 

ture  of  a  human  figure,  but  so  maimed 
and  doubled  up  that  it  seemed  a  stuffed  and 
fallen  scarecrow.  As  is  common  in  men 
stricken  suddenly  down  by  accident  in  the 
fullness  of  life,  the  clothes  asserted  them 
selves  before  all  else  with  a  hideous  ludi- 
crousness,  obliterating  even  the  majesty  of 
death  in  their  helpless  yet  ironical  incon 
gruity.  The  garments  seemed  to  have  never 
fitted  the  wearer,  but  to  have  been  assumed 
in  ghastly  jocularity,  —  a  boot  half  off  the 
swollen  foot,  a  ripped  waistcoat  thrown  over 
the  shoulder,  were  like  the  properties  of 
some  low  comedian.  At  first  the  body  ap 
peared  to  be  headless  ;  but  as  Brice  cleared 
away  the  debris  and  lifted  it,  he  saw  with 
horror  that  the  head  was  twisted  under  the 
shoulder,  and  swung  helplessly  from  the  dis 
located  neck.  But  that  horror  gave  way  to 
a  more  intense  and  thrilling  emotion  as  he 
saw  the  face  —  although  strangely  free  from 
laceration  or  disfigurement,  and  impurpled 
and  distended  into  the  simulation  of  a  self- 
complacent  smile  —  was  a  face  he  recog 
nized  !  It  was  the  face  of  the  cynical  trav 
eler  hi  the  coach  —  the  man  who  he  was 
now  satisfied  had  robbed  it. 


64        A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARKY'S 

A  strange  and  selfish  resentment  took 
possession  of  him.  Here  was  the  man 
through  whom  he  had  suffered  shame  and 
peril,  and  who  even  now  seemed  compla 
cently  victorious  in  death.  He  examined 
him  closely;  his  coat  and  waistcoat  had 
been  partly  torn  away  in  his  fall ;  his  shirt 
still  clung  to  him,  but  through  its  torn  front 
could  be  seen  a  heavy  treasure  belt  encircling 
his  waist.  Forgetting  his  disgust,  Brice  tore 
away  the  shirt  and  unloosed  the  belt.  It 
was  saturated  with  water  like  the  rest  of  the 
clothing,  but  its  pocket  seemed  heavy  and 
distended.  In  another  instant  he  had  opened 
it,  and  discovered  the  envelope  containing 
the  packet  of  greenbacks,  its  seal  still  invio 
late  and  unbroken.  It  was  the  stolen  trea 
sure  ! 

A  faint  sigh  recalled  him  to  himself .  The 
girl  was  standing  a  few  feet  from  him,  re 
garding  him  curiously. 

"  It 's  the  thief  himself !  "  he  said,  in  a 
breathless  explanation.  "  In  trying  to  es 
cape  he  must  have  fallen  from  the  road 
above.  But  here  are  the  greenbacks  safe ! 
We  must  go  back  to  your  uncle  at  once," 
he  said  excitedly.  "  Come  !  " 


A   NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRTS       65 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  "  she  cried,  in  astonish 
ment. 

"  No,"  returned  Brice,  in  equal  astonish 
ment,  "but  you  know  I  agreed  with  him 
that  we  should  work  together  to  recover  the 
money,  and  I  must  show  him  our  good 
luck." 

"  He  told  you  that  if  you  met  the  thief  and 
could  get  the  money  from  him,  you  were 
welcome  to  it,"  said  the  girl  gravely,  "  and 
you  have  got  it." 

"  But  not  in  the  way  he  meant,"  returned 
Brice  hurriedly.  "  This  man's  death  is  the 
result  of  his  attempting  to  escape  from  your 
uncle's  guards  along  the  road;  the  merit 
of  it  belongs  to  them  and  your  uncle.  It 
would  be  cowardly  and  mean  of  me  to  take 
advantage  of  it." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  with  an  expres 
sion  of  mingled  admiration  and  pity.  "  But 
the  guards  were  placed  there  before  he  ever 
saw  you,"  said  she  impatiently.  "And 
whatever  uncle  Harry  may  want  to  do,  he 
must  do  what  the  gang  says.  And  with  the 
money  once  in  their  possession,  or  even  in 
yours,  if  they  knew  it,  I  would  n't  give 
much  for  its  chances  —  or  yours  either  — 
for  gettin'  out  o'  this  hollow  again." 


66   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRTS 

"  But  if  they  are  treacherous,  that  is  no 
reason  why  I  should  be  so,"  protested  Brice 
stoutly. 

"  You  've  no  right  to  say  they  were 
treacherous  when  they  knew  nothing  of 
your  plans,"  said  the  girl  sharply.  "  Your 
company  would  have  more  call  to  say  you 
were  treacherous  to  it  for  making  a  plan 
without  consultin'  them."  Brice  winced,  for 
he  had  never  thought  of  that  before.  "  You 
can  offer  that  reward  after  you  get  away 
from  here  with  the  greenbacks.  But,"  she 
added  proudly,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  "  go 
back  if  you  want  to !  Tell  him  all !  Tell 
him  where  you  found  it  —  tell  him  I  did  not 
take  you  through  the  canon,  but  was  show- 
in'  you  a  new  trail  I  had  never  shown  to 
them  I  Tell  him  that  I  am  a  traitor,  for  I 
have  given  them  and  him  away  to  you,  a 
stranger,  and  that  you  consider  yourself  the 
only  straight  and  honest  one  about  here !  " 

Brice  flushed  with  shame.  "Forgive 
me,"  he  said  hurriedly ;  "  you  are  right  and 
I  am  wrong  again.  I  will  do  just  what  you 
say.  I  will  first  place  these  greenbacks  in 
a  secure  place  —  and  then  "  — 

"  Get  away  first  —  that 's  your  only  holt," 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   67 

she  interrupted  him  quickly,  her  eyes  still 
flashing  through  indignant  tears.  "  Come 
quick,  for  I  must  put  you  on  the  trail  before 
they  miss  me." 

She  darted  forward ;  he  followed,  but  she 
kept  the  lead,  as  much,  he  fancied,  to  evade 
his  observation  as  to  expedite  his  going. 
Presently  they  stopped  before  the  sloping 
trunk  of  a  huge  pine  that  had  long  since 
fallen  from  the  height  above,  but,  although 
splintered  where  it  had  broken  ground,  had 
preserved  some  fifty  feet  of  its  straight 
trunk  erect  and  leaning  like  a  ladder  against 
the  mountain  wall.  "  There,"  she  said,  hur 
riedly  pointing  to  its  decaying  but  still  pro 
jecting  lateral  branches,  "  you  climb  it  —  I 
have.  At  the  top  you  '11  find  it 's  stuck  in 
a  cleft  among  the  brush.  There  's  a  little 
hollow  and  an  old  waterway  from  a  spring- 
above  which  makes  a  trail  through  the 
brush.  It 's  as  good  as  the  trail  you  took 
from  the  stage  road  this  morniu1,  but  it 's 
not  as  safe  comin'  down.  Keep  along  it  to 
the  spring,  and  it  will  land  ye  jest  the  other 
side  of  uncle  Hiram's  cabin.  Go  quick  ! 
I  '11  wait  here  until  ye  've  reached  the 
cleft." 


68   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

"  But  you,"  lie  said,  turning  toward  her, 
"  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  ?  " 

As  if  anticipating  a  leave-taking,  the  girl 
had  already  withdrawn  herself  a  few  yards 
away,  and  simply  made  an  upward  gesture 
with  her  hand.  "  Quick  !  Up  with  you  ! 
Every  minute  now  is  a  risk  to  me." 

Thus  appealed  to,  Brice  could  only  com 
ply.  Perhaps  he  was  a  little  hurt  at  the  girl's 
evident  desire  to  avoid  a  gentler  parting. 
Securing  his  prized  envelope  within  his 
breast,  he  began  to  ascend  the  tree.  Its  in 
clination,  and  the  aid  offered  by  the  broken 
stumps  of  branches,  made  this  comparatively 
easy,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  reached  its 
top,  and  stood  upon  a  little  ledge  in  the 
wall.  A  swift  glance  around  him  revealed 
the  whole  waterway  or  fissure  slanting  up 
ward  along  the  mountain  face.  Then  he 
turned  quickly  to  look  down  the  dizzy 
height.  At  first  he  could  distinguish  no 
thing  but  the  top  of  the  buckeyes  and  their 
white  clustering  blossoms.  Then  something 
fluttered,  —  the  torn  white  handkerchief  of 
his  that  she  had  kept.  And  then  he  caught 
a  single  glimpse  of  the  flower-plumed  hat  re 
ceding  rapidly  among  the  trees,  and  Flora 
Dimwood  was  gone. 


A  NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRYS       69 

III 

In  twenty-four  hours  Edward  Brice  was 
in  San  Francisco.  But  although  successful 
and  the  bearer  of  the  treasure,  it  is  doubt 
ful  if  he  approached  this  end  of  his  journey 
with  the  temerity  he  had  shown  on  entering 
the  robbers'  valley.  A  consciousness  that 
the  methods  he  had  employed  might  excite 
the  ridicule,  if  not  the  censure,  of  his  prin 
cipals,  or  that  he  might  have  compromised 
them  in  his  meeting  with  Snapshot  Harry, 
considerably  modified  his  youthful  exulta 
tion.  It  is  possible  that  Flora's  reproach, 
which  still  rankled  in  his  mind,  may  have 
quickened  his  sensitiveness  on  that  point. 
However,  he  had  resolved  to  tell  the  whole 
truth,  except  his  episode  with  Flora,  and 
to  place  the  conduct  of  Snapshot  Harry  and 
the  Tarboxes  in  as  favorable  a  light  as  possi 
ble.  But  first  he  had  recourse  to  the  man 
ager,  a  man  of  shrewd  worldly  experience, 
who  had  recommended  him  to  his  place. 
When  he  had  finished  and  handed  him  the 
treasured  envelope,  the  man  looked  at  him 
with  a  critical  and  yet  not  unkindly  expres 
sion.  "  Perhaps  it 's  just  as  well,  Brice, 


70   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY1  S 

that  you  did  come  to  me  at  first,  and  did 
not  make  your  report  to  the  president  and 
directors." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Brice  diffidently,  "  that 
they  would  n't  have  liked  my  communicating 
with  the  highwayman  without  their  know 
ledge  ?  " 

"  More  than  that  —  they  would  n't  have 
believed  your  story." 

"  Not  believe  it  ?  "  cried  Brice,  flushing 
quickly.  "  Do  you  think  "  — 

The  manager  checked  him  with  a  laugh. 
"  Hold  on  !  I  believe  every  word  of  it,  and 
why  ?  Because  you  've  added  nothing  to  it 
to  make  yourself  the  regular  hero.  Why, 
with  your  opportunity,  and  no  one  able  to 
contradict  you,  you  might  have  told  me  you 
had  a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  the  thief,  and 
had  to  kill  him  to  recover  the  money,  and 
even  brought  your  handkerchief  and  hat 
back  with  the  bullet  holes  to  prove  it." 
Brice  winked  as  he  thought  of  the  fair  pos 
sessor  of  those  articles.  "  But  as  a  story 
for  general  circulation,  it  won't  do.  Have 
you  told  it  to  any  one  else  ?  Does  any  one 
know  what  happened  but  yourself  ?  " 

Brice  thought  of  Flora,  but  he  had  re- 


A  NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S       71 

solved  not  to  compromise  her,  and  he  had 
a  consciousness  that  she  would  be  equally 
loyal  to  him.  "  No  one,''  he  answered 
boldly. 

"  Very  good.  And  I  suppose  you  would  n't 
mind  if  it  were  kept  out  of  the  newspapers  ? 
You  're  not  hankering  after  a  reputation  as 
a  hero  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Brice  indignantly. 

"  Well,  then,  we  '11  keep  it  where  it  is. 
You  will  say  nothing.  I  will  hand  over  the 
greenbacks  to  the  company,  but  only  as 
much  of  your  story  as  I  think  they  '11  stand. 
You  're  all  right  as  it  is.  Yuba  Bill  has 
already  set  you  up  in  his  report  to  the  com 
pany,  and  the  recovery  of  this  money  will 
put  you  higher !  Only,  the  piibl'ic  need 
know  nothing  about  it." 

"  But,"  asked  Brice  amazedly,  "  how  can 
it  be  prevented  ?  The  shippers  who  lost  the 
money  will  have  to  know  that  it  has  been 
recovered." 

"  Why  should  they  ?  The  company  will 
assume  the  risk,  and  repay  them  just  the 
same.  It 's  a  great  deal  better  to  have  the 
reputation  for  accepting  the  responsibility 
than  for  the  shippers  to  think  that  they 


72   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

only  get  their  money  through  the  accident 
of  its  recovery." 

Brice  gasped  at  this  large  business  truth. 
Besides,  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  kept  the 
secret,  and  Flora's  participation  in  it,  from 
Snapshot  Harry  and  the  gang.  He  had  not 
thought  of  that  before. 

"  Come,"  continued  the  manager,  with  offi 
cial  curtness.  "  What  do  you  say  ?  Are 
you  willing  to  leave  it  to  me  ?  " 

Brice  hesitated  a  moment.  It  was  not 
what  his  impulsive  truthful  nature  had  sug 
gested.  It  was  not  what  his  youthful  fancy 
had  imagined.  He  had  not  worked  upon 
the  sympathies  of  the  company  on  behalf  of 
Snapshot  Harry  as  he  believed  he  would  do. 
He  had  not  even  impressed  the  manager. 
His  story,  far  from  exciting  a  chivalrous 
sentiment,  had  been  pronounced  improbable. 
Yet  he  reflected  he  had  so  far  protected  her, 
and  he  consented  with  a  sigh. 

Nevertheless,  the  result  ought  to  have  sat 
isfied  him.  A  dazzling  check,  inclosed  in  a 
letter  of  thanks  from  the  company  the  next 
day,  and  his  promotion  from  "  the  road  "  to 
the  San  Francisco  office,  would  have  been 
quite  enough  for  any  one  but  Edward  Brice. 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   73 

Yet  he  was  grateful,  albeit  a  little  fright 
ened  and  remorseful  over  his  luck.  He 
could  not  help  thinking  of  the  kindly  toler 
ance  of  the  highwayman,  the  miserable 
death  of  the  actual  thief,  which  had  proved 
his  own  salvation,  and  above  all  the  gener 
ous,  high-spirited  girl  who  had  aided  his  es 
cape.  While  on  his  way  to  San  Francisco, 
and  yet  in  the  first  glow  of  his  success,  he 
had  written  her  a  few  lines  from  Marysville, 
inclosed  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Tarbox.  He 
had  received  no  reply. 

Then  a  week  passed.  He  wrote  again, 
and  still  no  reply.  Then  a  vague  feeling  of 
jealousy  took  possession  of  him  as  he  remem 
bered  her  warning  hint  of  the  attentions  to 
which  she  was  subjected,  and  he  became  sin 
gularly  appreciative  of  Snapshot  Harry's 
proficiency  as  a  marksman.  Then,  cruelest 
of  all,  for  your  impassioned  lover  is  no  lover 
at  all  if  not  cruel  in  his  imaginings,  he  re 
membered  how  she  had  evaded  her  uncle's 
espionage  with  him  ;  could  she  not  equally 
with  another  ?  Perhaps  that  was  why  she 
had  hurried  him  away,  —  why  she  had  pre 
vented  his  returning  to  her  uncle.  Following 
this  came  another  week  of  disappointment 


74   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

and  equally  miserable  cynical  philosophy,  in 
which  he  persuaded  himself  he  was  perfectly 
satisfied  with  his  material  advancement,  that 
it  was  the  only  outcome  of  his  adventure  to 
be  recognized  ;  and  he  was  more  miserable 
than  ever. 

A  month  had  passed,  when  one  morning 
he  received  a  small  package  by  post.  The 
address  was  in  a  handwriting  unknown  to 
him,  but  opening  the  parcel  he  was  sur 
prised  to  find  only  a  handkerchief  neatly 
folded.  Examining  it  closely,  he  found  it 
was  his  own,  —  the  one  he  had  given  her, 
the  rent  made  by  her  uncle's  bullet  so  in 
geniously  and  delicately  mended  as  to  almost 
simulate  embroidery.  The  joy  that  suddenly 
filled  him  at  this  proof  of  her  remembrance 
showed  him  too  plainly  how  hollow  had  been 
his  cynicism  and  how  lasting  his  hope  I 
Turning  over  the  wrapper  eagerly,  he  dis 
covered  what  he  had  at  first  thought  was 
some  business  card.  It  was,  indeed,  printed 
and  not  engraved,  in  some  common  news 
paper  type,  and  bore  the  address,  "  Hiram 
Tarbox,  Land  and  Timber  Agent,  1101 
California  Street."  He  again  examined  the 
parcel ;  there  was  nothing  else,  —  not  a  line 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   75 

from  her.'  But  it  was  a  clue  at  last,  and 
she  had  not  forgotten  him  !  He  seized  his 
hat,  and  ten  minutes  later  was  breasting  the 
steep  sand  hill  into  which  California  Street 
in  those  days  plunged,  and  again  emerged 
at  its  crest,  with  a  few  struggling  houses. 

But  when  he  reached  the  summit  he  could 
see  that  the  outline  of  the  street  was  still 
plainly  marked  along  the  distance  by  cot 
tages  and  new  suburban  villa-like  blocks  of 
houses.  No.  1101  was  in  one  of  these 
blocks,  a  small  tenement  enough,  but  a 
palace  compared  to  Mr.  Tarbox's  Sierran 
cabin.  He  impetuously  rang  the  bell,  and 
without  waiting  to  be  announced  dashed 
into  the  little  dfawing-room  and  Mr.  Tar- 
box's  presence.  That  had  changed  too  ;  Mr. 
Tarbox  was  arrayed  in  a  suit  of  clothes  as 
new,  as  cheaply  decorative,  as  fresh  and, 
apparently,  as  damp  as  his  own  drawing- 
room. 

"  Did  you  get  my  letter  ?  Did  you  give 
her  the  one  I  inclosed  ?  Why  did  n't  you 
answer  ? "  burst  out  Brice,  after  his  first 
breathless  greeting. 

Mr.  Tarbox's  face  here  changed  so  sud 
denly  into  his  old  dejected  doggedness  that 


76   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

Brice  could  have  imagined  himself  back  in 
the  Sierran  cabin.  The  man  straightened 
and  bowed  himself  at  Brice's  questions,  and 
then  replied  with  bold,  deliberate  emphasis  : 

"Yes,  I  did  get  your  letter.  I  didrCt 
give  no  letter  o'  yours  to  her.  And  I  did  n't 
answer  your  letter  before,  for  I  did  n't  pro 
pose  to  answer  it  at  all" 

"  Why?"  demanded  Brice  indignantly. 

"  I  did  n't  give  her  your  letter  because  I 
did  n't  kalkilate  to  be  any  go-between  'twixt 
you  and  Snapshot  Harry's  niece.  Look  yar, 
Mr.  Brice.  Sense  I  read  that  'ar  paragraph 
in  that  paper  you  gave  me,  I  allowed  to  my 
self  that  it  was  n't  the  square  thing  for  me 
to  have  any  more  doin's  with  him,  and  I 
quit  it.  I  jest  chucked  your  letter  in  the 
fire.  I  did  n't  answer  you  because  I  reck 
oned  I  'd  no  call  to  correspond  with  ye,  and 
when  I  showed  ye  that  trail  over  to  Harry's 
camp,  it  was  ended.  I  've  got  a  house  and 
business  to  look  arter,  and  it  don't  jibe  with 
keepin'  company  with  4  road  agents.'  That 's 
what  I  got  outer  that  paper  you  gave  me, 
Mr.  Brice." 

Rage  and  disgust  filled  Brice  at  the  man's 
utter  selfishness  and  shameless  desertion  of 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   77 

his  kindred,  none  the  less  powerfully  that 
he  remembered  the  part  he  himself  had 
played  in  concocting  the  paragraph.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  say,"  he  demanded  passionately, 
"  that  for  the  sake  of  that  foolish  paragraph 
you  gave  up  your  own  kindred  ?  That  you 
truckled  to  the  mean  prejudices  of  your 
neighbors  and  kept  that  poor,  defenseless 
girl  from  the  only  honest  roof  she  could  find 
refuge  under?  That  you  dared  to  destroy 
my  letter  to  her,  and  made  her  believe  I 
was  as  selfish  and  ungrateful  as  yourself?" 
;  "Young  feller,"  said  Mr.  Tarbox  still 
more  deliberately,  yet  with  a  certain  dignity 
that  Brice  had  never  noticed  before,  "  what 's 
between  you  and  Flo,  and  what  rights  she 
has  f  er  thinkin'  ye  '  ez  selfish  '  and  '  ez  on- 
grateful  '  ez  me  —  ef  she  does,  I  dunno  !  — 
but  when  ye  talk  o'  me  givin'  up  my  kin 
dred,  and  sling  such  hogwash  ez  4  ongrate- 
f ul '  and  '  selfish '  round  this  yer  sittin'- 
room,  mebbe  it  mout  occur  to  ye  that  Harry 
Diniwood  might  hev  his  opinion  o'  what  was 
4  ongrateful '  and  *  selfish '  ef  I  'd  played  in 
between  his  niece  and  a  young  man  o'  the 
express  company,  his  nat'ral  enemy.  It 's 
one  thing  to  hev  helped  ye  to  see  her  in  her 


J8   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

uncle's  own  camp,  but  another  to  help  ye 
by  makin'  a  clandecent  post-offis  o'  my 
cabin.  Ef,  instead  o'  writin',  you  'd  hev 
posted  yourself  by  comin'  to  me,  you  mout 
hev  found  out  that  when  I  broke  with 
Harry  I  offered  to  take  Flo  with  me  for 
good  and  all  —  ef  he  'd  keep  away  from  us. 
And  that 's  the  kind  o'  c  honest  roof '  that 
that  thar  '  poor  defenseless  girl '  got  under 
when  her  crippled  mother  died  three  weeks 
ago,  and  left  Harry  free.  It  was  by  4  truck- 
lin' '  to  them  4  mean  prejudices,'  and  readin' 
that  thar  '  foolish  paragraph,'  that  I  settled 
this  thing  then  and  thar  !  " 

Brice's  revulsion  of  sentiment  was  so  com 
plete,  and  the  gratitude  that  beamed  in  his 
eyes  was  so  sincere,  that  Mr.  Tarbox  hardly 
needed  the  profuse  apologies  which  broke 
from  him.  "  Forgive  me  !  "  he  continued  to 
stammer,  "  I  have  wronged  you,  wronged 
her  —  everybody.  But  as  you  know,  Mr. 
Tarbox,  how  I  have  felt  over  this,  how 
deeply  —  how  passionately  "  — 

"It  does  make  a  man  loony  sometimes," 
said  Mr.  Tarbox,  relaxing  into  demure  dry- 
ness  again,  "  so  I  reckon  you  did  !  Mebbe 
she  reckoned  so,  too,  for  she  asked  me  to 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S   79 

give  you  the  handkercher  I  sent  ye.  It 
looked,  as  if  she  'd  bin  doin'  some  fancy 
work  on  it." 

Brice  glanced  quickly  at  Mr.  Tarbox's 
face.  It  was  stolid  and  imperturbable.  She 
had  evidently  kept  the  secret  of  what  passed 
in  the  hollow  to  herself.  For  the  first  time 
he  looked  around  the  room  curiously.  "  I 
didn't  know  you  were  a  land  agent  before," 
he  said. 

"  No  more  I  was !  All  that  kem  out  o* 
that  paragraph,  Mr.  Brice.  That  man 
Heckshill,  who  was  so  mighty  perlite  that 
night,  wrote  to  me  afterwards  that  he  did  n't 
know  my  name  till  he  'd  seed  that  paragraph, 
and  he  wanted  to  know  ef ,  ez  a  4  well-known 
citizen,'  I  could  recommend  him  some  tim 
ber  lands.  I  recommended  him  half  o'  my 
own  quarter  section,  and  he  took  it.  He 's 
puttin'  up  a  mill  thar,  and  that 's  another 
reason  why  we  want  peace  and  quietness  up 
thar.  I  'm  tryin'  (betwixt  and  between  us, 
Mr.  Brice)  to  get  Harry  to  cl'ar  out  and  sell 
his  rights  in  the  valley  and  the  water  power 
on  the  Fork  to  Heckshill  and  me.  I'm 
opening  a  business  here." 

"Then    you've   left   Mrs.    Tarbox   with 


80   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

Miss  Flora  in  your  cabin  while  you  attend 
to  business  here,"  said  Brice  tentatively. 

"Not  exactly,  Mr.  Brice.  The  old  wo 
man  thought  it  a  good  chance  to  come  to 
'Frisco  and  put  Flo  in  one  o'  them  Catholic 
convent  schools  —  that  asks  no  questions 
whar  the  raw  logs  come  from,  and  turns  'em 
out  first-class  plank  all  round.  You  foller 
me,  Mr.  Brice?  But  Mrs.  Tarbox  is  jest 
in  the  next  room,  and  would  admire  to  tell 
ye  all  this  —  and  I  '11  go  in  and  send  her  to 
you."  And  with  a  patronizing  wave  of  the 
hand,  Mr.  Tarbox  complacently  disappeared 
in  the  hall. 

Mr.  Brice  was  not  sorry  to  be  left  to  him 
self  in  his  utter  bewilderment !  Flo,  sepa 
rated  from  her  detrimental  uncle,  and  placed 
in  a  convent  school!  Tarbox,  the  obscure 
pioneer,  a  shrewd  speculator  emerging  into 
success,  and  taking  the  uncle's  place  !  And 
all  this  within  that  month  which  he  had 
wasted  with  absurd  repinings.  How  feeble 
seemed  his  own  adventure  and  advancement ; 
how  even  ludicrous  his  pretensions  to  any 
patronage  and  superiority.  How  this  com 
mon  backwoodsman  had  set  him  in  his  place 
as  easily  as  she  had  evaded  the  advances  of 


A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY* S   81 

the  journalist  and  Heckshill  !  They  had 
taught  him  a  lesson  ;  perhaps  even  the  send 
ing  back  of  his  handkerchief  was  part  of 
it !  His  heart  grew  heavy  ;  he  walked  to 
the  window  and  gazed  out  with  a  long 
sigh. 

A  light  laugh,  that  might  have  been  an 
echo  of  the  one  which  had  attracted  him 
that  night  in  Tarbox's  cabin,  fell  upon  his 
ear.  He  turned  quickly  to  meet  Flora  Dim- 
wood's  laughing  eyes  shining  upon  him  as 
she  stood  in  the  doorway. 

Many  a  time  during  that  month  he  had 
thought  of  this  meeting  —  had  imagined 
what  it  would  be  like  —  what  would  be  his 
manner  towards  her  —  what  would  be  her 
greeting,  and  what  they  would  say.  He 
would  be  cold,  gentle,  formal,  gallant,  gay, 
sad,  trustful,  reproachful,  even  as  the 
moods  in  which  he  thought  of  her  came  to 
his  foolish  brain.  He  would  always  begin 
with  respectful  seriousness,  or  a  frankness 
equal  to  her  own,  but  never,  never  again 
would  he  offend  as  he  had  offended  under 
the  buckeyes !  And  now,  with  her  pretty 
face  shining  upon  him,  all  his  plans,  his 
speeches,  his  preparations  vanished,  and  left 


82   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

him  dumb.     Yet  he  moved  towards  her  with 
a  brief  articulate  something  on  his  lips,  — 
something  between   a  laugh  and  a  sigh,  — 
but  that  really  was  a  kiss,  and  —  in  point 
of  fact  —  promptly  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

Yet  it  was  certainly  direct,  and  perhaps 
the  best  that  could  be  done,  for  the  young 
lady  did  not  emerge  from  it  as  coolly,  as 
unemotionally,  nor  possibly  as  quickly  as 
she  had  under  the  shade  of  the  buckeyes. 
But  she  persuaded  him  —  by  still  holding 
his  hand  —  to  sit  beside  her  on  the  chilly, 
highly  varnished  "  green  rep "  sofa,  albeit 
to  him  it  was  a  bank  in  a  bower  of  enchant 
ment.  Then  she  said,  with  adorable  re- 
proachfulness,  "  You  don't  ask  what  I  did 
with  the  body." 

Mr.  Edward  Brice  started.  He  was 
young,  and  unfamiliar  with  the  evasive  ex- 
pan  si  veness  of  the  female  mind  at  such 
supreme  moments. 

"  The  body  —  oh,  yes  —  certainly." 

"  I  buried  it  myself  —  it  was  suthin  too 
awful !  —  and  the  gang  would  have  been 
sure  to  have  found  it,  and  the  empty  belt. 
I  burned  that.  So  that  nobody  knows 
nothin'." 


A  NIECE   OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRTS       83 

It  was  not  a  time  for  strictly  grammati 
cal  negatives,  and  I  am  afraid  that  the  girl's 
characteristically  familiar  speech,  even  when 
pathetically  corrected  here  and  there  by  the 
influence  of  the  convent,  endeared  her  the 
more  to  him.  And  when  she  said,  "  And 
now,  Mr.  Edward  Brice,  sit  over  at  that  end 
of  the  sofy  and  let's  talk,"  they  talked. 
They  talked  for  an  hour,  more  or  less  con 
tinuously,  until  they  were  surprised  by  a  dis 
creet  cough  and  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Tar- 
box.  Then  there  was  more  talk,  and  the 
discovery  that  Mr.  Brice  was  long  due  at  the 
office. 

"  Ye  might  drop  in,  now  and  then,  when 
ever  ye  feel  like  it,  and  Flo  is  at  home," 
suggested  Mrs.  Tarbox  at  parting. 

Mr.  Brice  did  drop  in  frequently  during 
the  next  month.  On  one  of  these  occasions 
Mr.  Tarbox  accompanied  him  to  the  door. 
"  And  now  —  ez  everything  is  settled  and 
in  order,  Mr.  Brice,  and  ef  you  should  be 
wantin'  to  say  anything  about  it  to  your 
bosses  at  the  office,  ye  may  mention  my 
name  ez  Flo  Dimwood's  second  cousin,  and 
say  I'm  a  depositor  in  their  bank.  And," 
with  greater  deliberation,  "ef  anything  at 


84   A  NIECE  OF  SNAPSHOT  HARRY'S 

any  time  should  be  thrown  up  at  ye  for  mar- 
ryin'  a  niece  o'  Snapshot  Harry's,  ye  might 
mention,  keerless  like,  that  Snapshot  Harry, 
under  the  name  o'  Henry  J.  Dimwood,  has 
held  shares  in  their  old  bank  for  years !  " 


A  TREASURE   OF  THE  RED 
WOODS 

PART   I 

MR.  JACK  FLEMING  stopped  suddenly  be 
fore  a  lifeless  and  decaying  redwood-tree 
with  an  expression  of  disgust  and  impa 
tience.  It  was  the  very  tree  he  had  passed 
only  an  hour  before,  and  he  now  knew  he 
had  been  describing  that  mysterious  and 
hopeless  circle  familiar  enough  to  those  lost 
in  the  woods. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  tree,  with  its 
one  broken  branch  which  depended  at  an 
angle  like  the  arm  of  a  semaphore  ;  nor  did 
it  relieve  his  mind  to  reflect  that  his  mishap 
was  partly  due  to  his  own  foolish  abstrac 
tion.  He  was  returning  to  camp  from  a 
neighboring  mining  town,  and  while  indul 
ging  in  the  usual  day-dreams  of  a  youthful 
prospector,  had  deviated  from  his  path  in 
attempting  to  make  a  short  cut  through  the 
forest.  He  had  lost  the  sun,  his  only  guide, 


86      A   TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS 

in  the  thickly  interlaced  boughs  above  him, 
which  suffused  through  the  long  columnar 
vault  only  a  vague,  melancholy  twilight. 
He  had  evidently  penetrated  some  unknown 
seclusion,  absolutely  primeval  and  untrod 
den.  The  thick  layers  of  decaying  bark  and 
the  desiccated  dust  of  ages  deadened  his 
footfall  and  invested  the  gloom  with  a  pro 
found  silence. 

As  he  stood  for  a  moment  or  two,  irreso 
lute,  his  ear,  by  this  time  attuned  to  the 
stillness,  caught  the  faint  but  distinct  lap 
and  trickle  of  water.  He  was  hot  and  thirsty, 
and  turned  instinctively  in  that  direction. 
A  very  few  paces  brought  him  to  a  fallen 
tree ;  at  the  foot  of  its  upturned  roots  gur 
gled  the  spring  whose  upwelling  stream  had 
slowly  but  persistently  loosened  their  hold 
on  the  soil,  and  worked  their  ruin.  A  pool 
of  cool  and  clear  water,  formed  by  the  dis 
ruption  of  the  soil,  overflowed,  and  after  a 
few  yards  sank  again  in  the  sodden  floor. 

As  he  drank  and  bathed  his  head  and 
hands  in  this  sylvan  basin,  he  noticed  the 
white  glitter  of  a  quartz  ledge  in  its  depths, 
and  was  considerably  surprised  and  relieved 
to  find,  hard  by,  an  actual  outcrop  of  that 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS       87 

rock  through  the  thick  carpet  of  bark  and 
dust.  This  betokened  that  he  was  near  the 
edge  of  the  forest  or  some  rocky  opening. 
He  fancied  that  the  light  grew  clearer  be 
yond,  and  the  presence  of  a  few  fronds  of 
ferns  confirmed  him  in  the  belief  that  he 
was  approaching  a  different  belt  of  vegeta 
tion.  Presently  he  saw  the  vertical  beams 
of  the  sun  again  piercing  the  opening  in  the 
distance.  With  this  prospect  of  speedy  de 
liverance  from  the  forest  at  last  secure,  he 
did  not  hurry  forward,  but  on  the  contrary 
coolly  retraced  his  footsteps  to  the  spring 
again.  The  fact  was  that  the  instincts  and 
hopes  of  the  prospector  were  strongly  domi 
nant  in  him,  and  having  noticed  the  quartz 
ledge  and  the  contiguous  outcrop,  he  deter 
mined  to  examine  them  more  closely.  He 
had  still  time  to  find  his  way  home,  and  it 
might  not  be  so  easy  to  penetrate  the  wilder 
ness  again.  Unfortunately,  he  had  neither 
pick,  pan,  nor  shovel  with  him,  but  a  very 
cursory  displacement  of  the  soil  around  the 
spring  and  at  the  outcrop  with  his  hands 
showed  him  the  usual  red  soil  and  decom 
posed  quartz  which  constituted  an  "  indica 
tion."  Yet  none  knew  better  than  himself 


88      A   TREASURE    OF   THE  REDWOODS 

how  disappointing  and  illusive  its  results 
often  were,  and  he  regretted  that  he  had  not 
a  pan  to  enable  him  to  test  the  soil  by  wash 
ing  it  at  the  spring.  If  there  were  only  a 
miner's  cabin  handy,  he  could  easily  borrow 
what  he  wanted.  It  was  just  the  usual 
luck,  —  "  the  things  a  man  sees  when  he 
has  n't  his  gun  with  him  !  " 

He  turned  impatiently  away  again  in  the 
direction  of  the  opening.  When  he  reached 
it,  he  found  himself  on  a  rocky  hillside  slop 
ing  toward  a  small  green  valley.  A  light 
smoke  curled  above  a  clump  of  willows  ;  it 
was  from  the  chimney  of  a  low  dwelling, 
but  a  second  glance  told  him  that  it  was  no 
miner's  cabin.  There  was  a  larger  clearing 
around  the  house,  and  some  rude  attempt 
at  cultivation  in  a  roughly  fenced  area. 
Nevertheless,  he  determined  to  try  his  luck 
in  borrowing  a  pick  and  pan  there ;  at  the 
worst  he  could  inquire  his  way  to  the  main 
road  again. 

A  hurried  scramble  down  the  hill  brought 
him  to  the  dwelling,  —  a  rambling  addition 
of  sheds  to  the  usual  log  cabin.  But  he  was 
surprised  to  find  that  its  exterior,  and  in 
deed  the  palings  of  the  fence  around  it,  were 


A   TREASURE    OF   THE  REDWOODS       89 

covered  with  the  stretched  and  drying  skins 
of  animals.  The  pelts  of  bear,  panther,  wolf, 
and  fox  were  intermingled  with  squirrel  and 
wildcat  skins,  and  the  displayed  wings  of 
eagle,  hawk,  and  kingfisher.  There  was  no 
trail  leading  to  or  from  the  cabin ;  it  seemed 
to  have  been  lost  in  this  opening  of  the 
encompassing  woods  and  left  alone  and 
solitary. 

The  barking  of  a  couple  of  tethered 
hounds  at  last  brought  a  figure  to  the  door 
of  the  nearest  lean-to  shed.  It  seemed  to 
be  that  of  a  young  girl,  but  it  was  clad  in 
garments  so  ridiculously  large  and  dispro 
portionate  that  it  was  difficult  to  tell  her 
precise  age.  A  calico  dress  was  pinned  up 
at  the  skirt,  and  tightly  girt  at  the  waist  by 
an  apron  —  so  long  that  one  corner  had  to 
be  tucked  in  at  the  apron  string  diagonally, 
to  keep  the  wearer  from  treading  on  it.  An 
enormous  sunbonnet  of  yellow  nankeen  com 
pletely  concealed  her  head  and  face,  but  al 
lowed  two  knotted  and  twisted  brown  tails  of 
hair  to  escape  under  its  frilled  cape  behind. 
She  was  evidently  engaged  in  some  culinary 
work,  and  still  held  a  large  tin  basin  or  pan 
she  had  been  cleaning  clasped  to  her  breast. 


90      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

Fleming's  eye  glanced  at  it  covetously, 
ignoring  the  figure  behind  it.  But  he  was 
diplomatic. 

"  I  have  lost  my  way  in  the  woods.  Can 
you  tell  me  in  what  direction  the  main  road 
lies?" 

She  pointed  a  small  red  hand  apparently 
in  the  direction  he  had  come.  "  Straight 
over  thar  —  across  the  hill." 

Fleming  sighed.  He  had  been  making  a 
circuit  of  the  forest  instead  of  going  through 
it  —  and  this  open  space  containing  the 
cabin  was  on  a  remote  outskirt ! 

"How  far  is  it  to  the  road ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Jest  a  spell  arter  ye  rise  the  hill,  ef  ye 
keep  'longside  the  woods.  But  it 's  a  right 
smart  chance  beyond,  ef  ye  go  through  it." 

This  was  quite  plain  to  him.  In  the  lo 
cal  dialect  a  "  spell  "  was  under  a  mile  ;  "  a 
right  smart  chance  "  might  be  three  or  four 
miles  farther.  Luckily  the  spring  and  out 
crop  were  near  the  outskirts  ;  he  would  pass 
near  them  again  on  his  way.  He  looked 
longingly  at  the  pan  which  she  still  held  in 
her  hands.  "  Would  you  mind  lending  me 
that  pan  for  a  little  while?"  he  said  half 
laughingly. 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS       91 

"  Wot  for  ?  "  demanded  the  girl  quickly. 
Yet  her  tone  was  one  of  childish  curiosity 
rather  than  suspicion.  Fleming  would  have 
liked  to  avoid  the  question  and  the  conse 
quent  exposure  of  his  discovery  which  a 
direct  answer  implied.  But  he  saw  it  was 
too  late  now. 

"  I  want  to  wash  a  little  dirt,"  he  said 
bluntly. 

The  girl  turned  her  deep  sunbonnet 
toward  him.  Somewhere  in  its  depths  he 
saw  the  flash  of  white  teeth.  "  Go  along 
with  ye  —  ye  're  funnin' !  "  she  said. 

"  I  want  to  wash  out  some  dirt  in  that 
pan  —  I  'm  prospecting  for  gold,"  he  said  ; 
"  don't  you  understand?  " 

"  Are  ye  a  miner  ?  " 

"  "Well,  yes  —  a  sort  of  one,"  he  returned, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Then  ye  'd  better  be  scootin'  out  o'  this 
mighty  quick  afore  dad  comes.  He  don't 
cotton  to  miners,  and  won't  have  'eni 
around.  That 's  why  he  lives  out  here." 

"  Well,  I  don't  live  out  here,"  responded 
the  young  man  lightly.  "  I  shotdd  n't  be 
here  if  I  had  n't  lost  my  way,  and  in  half  an 
hour  I  '11  be  off  again.  So  I  'ni  not  likely 


92      A   TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS 

to  bother  him.  But,"  he  added,  as  the  girl 
still  hesitated,  "  I  '11  leave  a  deposit  for  the 
pan,  if  you  like." 

"  Leave  a  which  ?  " 

"  The  money  that  the  pan  's  worth,"  said 
Fleming  impatiently. 

The  huge  sunbonnet  stiffly  swung  around 
like  the  wind-sail  of  a  ship  and  stared  at  the 
horizon.  "  I  don't  want  no  money.  Ye  kin 
git,"  said  the  voice  in  its  depths. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  desperately,  "  1 
only  wanted  to  prove  to  you  that  I  '11  bring 
your  pan  back  safe.  Now  look!  If  you 
don't  like  to  take  money,  I  '11  leave  this 
ring  with  you  until  I  come  back.  There  !  " 
He  slipped  a  small  specimen  ring,  made  out 
of  his  first  gold  findings,  from  his  little 
finger. 

The  sunbonnet  slowly  swung  around  again 
and  stared  at  the  ring.  Then  the  little  red 
right  hand  reached  forward,  took  the  ring, 
placed  it  on  the  forefinger  of  the  left  hand, 
with  all  the  other  fingers  widely  extended 
for  the  sunbonnet  to  view,  and  all  the  while 
the  pan  was  still  held  against  her  side  by 
the  other  hand.  Fleming  noticed  that  the 
hands,  though  tawny  and  not  over  clean, 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS       93 

were  almost  childlike  in  size,  and  that  the 
forefinger  was  much  too  small  for  the  ring. 
He  tried  to  fathom  the  depths  of  the  sun- 
bonnet,  but  it  was  dented  on  one  side,  and 
he  could  discern  only  a  single  pale  blue  eye 
and  a  thin  black  arch  of  eyebrow. 

"  Well,"  said  Fleming,  "  is  it  a  go  ?  " 

"  Of  course  ye  '11  be  comin'  back  for  it 
again,"  said  the  girl  slowly. 

There  was  so  much  of  hopeless  disappoint 
ment  at  that  prospect  in  her  voice  that  Flem 
ing  laughed  outright.  "  I  'in  afraid  I  shall, 
f<?r  I  value  the  ring  very  much,"  he  said. 

The  girl  handed  him  the  pan.  "  It 's  our 
bread  pan,"  she  said. 

It  might  have  been  anything,  for  it  was 
by  no  means  new ;  indeed,  it  was  battered 
on  one  side  and  the  bottom  seemed  to  have 
been  broken  ;  but  it  would  serve,  and  Flem 
ing  was  anxious  to  be  off.  "  Thank  you," 
he  said  briefly,  and  turned  away.  The 
hound  barked  again  as  he  passed  ;  he  heard 
the  girl  say,  "  Shut  your  head,  Tige !  "  and 
saw  her  turn  back  into  the  kitchen,  still 
holding  the  ring  before  the  sunbonnet. 

When  he  reached  the  woods,  he  attacked 
the  outcrop  he  had  noticed,  and  detached 


94      A    TREASURE    OF   THE  REDWOODS 

with  his  hands  and  the  aid  of  a  sharp  rock 
enough  of  the  loose  soil  to  fill  the  pan. 
This  he  took  to  the  spring,  and,  lowering 
the  pan  in  the  pool,  began  to  wash  out  its 
contents  with  the  centrifugal  movement  of 
the  experienced  prospector.  The  saturated 
red  soil  overflowed  the  brim  with  that  liquid 
ooze  known  as  "  slumgullion,"  and  turned 
the  crystal  pool  to  the  color  of  blood  until 
the  soil  was  washed  away.  Then  the  smaller 
stones  were  carefully  removed  and  examined, 
and  then  another  washing  of  the  now  nearly 
empty  pan  showed  the  fine  black  sand  cover 
ing  the  bottom.  This  was  in  turn  as  gently 
washed  away. 

Alas !  the  clean  pan  showed  only  one  or 
two  minute  glistening  yellow  scales,  like 
pinheads,  adhering  from  their  specific  grav 
ity  to  the  bottom ;  gold,  indeed,  but  merely 
enough  to  indicate  "  the  color,"  and  common 
to  ordinary  prospecting  in  his  own  locality. 

He  tried  another  panful  with  the  same 
result.  He  became  aware  that  the  pan  was 
leaky,  and  that  infinite  care  alone  prevented 
the  bottom  from  falling  out  during  the  wash 
ing.  Still  it  was  an  experiment,  and  the 
result  a  failure. 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE  REDWOODS       95 

Fleming  was  too  old  a  prospector  to  take 
his  disappointment  seriously.  Indeed,  it 
was  characteristic  of  that  performance  and 
that  period  that  failure  left  neither  hope 
lessness  nor  loss  of  faith  behind  it ;  the  pro 
spector  had  simply  miscalculated  the  exact 
locality,  and  was  equally  as  ready  to  try  his 
luck  again.  But  Fleming  thought  it  high 
time  to  return  to  his  own  mining  work  in 
camp,  and  at  once  set  off  to  return  the  pan 
to  its  girlish  owner  and  recover  his  ring. 

As  he  approached  the  cabin  again,  he 
heard  the  sound  of  singing.  It  was  evi 
dently  the  girl's  voice,  uplifted  in  what 
seemed  to  be  a  fragment  of  some  negro 
camp-meeting  hymn  :  — 

"  Dar  was  a  poor  man  and  his  name  it  was  Lazarum, 
Lord  bress  de  Lamb  —  glory  hallelugerum  ! 
Lord  bress  de  Lamb  !  " 

The  first  two  lines  had  a  brisk  movement, 
accented  apparently  by  the  clapping  of  hands 
or  the  beating  of  a  tin  pan,  but  the  refrain, 
"  Lord  bress  de  Lamb,"  was  drawn  out  in  a 
lugubrious  chant  of  infinite  tenuity. 

"  The  rich  man  died  and  he  went  straight  to  hellernm, 
Lord  bress  de  Lamb  —  glory  hallelugerum ! 
Lord  bress  de  Lamb  !  " 


96      A    TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS 

Fleming  paused  at  the  cabin  door.  Be 
fore  he  could  rap  the  voice  rose  again :  — 

"  When  ye  see  a  poo'  man  be  sure  to  give  him  crumbso- 

rum, 

Lord  bress  de  Lamb  —  glory  hallelugenim ! 
Lord  bress  de  Lamb !  " 

At  the  end  of  this  interminable  refrain, 
drawn  out  in  a  youthful  nasal  contralto, 
Fleming  knocked.  The  girl  instantly  ap 
peared,  holding  the  ring  in  her  fingers.  "  I 
reckoned  it  was  you,"  she  said,  with  an 
affected  briskness,  to  conceal  her  evident 
dislike  at  parting  with  the  trinket.  "  There 
it  is!" 

But  Fleming  was  too  astounded  to  speak. 
With  the  opening  of  the  door  the  sunbonnet 
had  fallen  back  like  a  buggy  top,  disclosing 
for  the  first  time  the  head  and  shoulders  of 
the  wearer.  She  was  not  a  child,  but  a 
smart  young  woman  of  seventeen  or  eigh 
teen,  and  much  of  his  embarrassment  arose 
from  the  consciousness  that  he  had  no  reason 
whatever  for  having  believed  her  otherwise. 

"  I  hope  I  did  n't  interrupt  your  singing," 
he  said  awkwardly. 

"  It  was  only  one  o'  mammy's  camp-meet- 
in'  songs,"  said  the  girl. 


A    TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS      97 

"  Your  mother  ?  Is  she  in  ?  "  he  asked, 
glancing  past  the  girl  into  the  kitchen. 

44  'T  ain't  mother — she 's  dead.  Mammy 's 
our  old  nurse.  She  's  gone  to  Jinitown,  and 
taken  my  duds  to  get  some  new  ones  fitted 
to  me.  These  are  some  o'  mother's." 

This  accounted  for  her  strange  appear 
ance  ;  but  Fleming  noticed  that  the  girl's 
manner  had  not  the  slightest  consciousness 
of  their  unbeconiingness,  nor  of  the  charms 
of  face  and  figure  they  had  marred. 

She  looked  at  him  curiously.  "  Hev  you 
got  religion  ?  " 

"  Well,  no  !  "  said  Fleming,  laughing ; 
"  I  'm  afraid  not." 

"  Dad  hez  —  he  's  got  it  pow'ful." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  he  don't  like  miners  ?  " 
asked  Fleming. 

" '  Take  not  to  yourself  the  mammon  of 
unrighteousness,'  "  said  the  girl,  with  the 
confident  air  of  repeating  a  lesson.  "  That 's 
what  the  Book  says." 

"  But  I  read  the  Bible,  too,"  replied  the 
young  man. 

"  Dad  says, '  The  letter  killeth ' !  "  said 
the  girl  sententiously. 

Fleming  looked  at  the  trophies  nailed  on 


98      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

the  walls  with  a  vague  wonder  if  this  pecul 
iar  Scriptural  destructiveness  had  anything 
to  do  with  his  skill  as  a  marksman.  The 
girl  followed  his  eye. 

"  Dad 's  a  mighty  hunter  afore  the  Lord." 

"  What  does  he  do  with  these  skins  ?  " 

"  Trades  'em  off  for  grub  and  fixin's. 
But  he  don't  believe  in  trottin'  round  in  the 
mud  for  gold." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  these  animals  would 
have  preferred  it  if  he  had  ?  Gold  hunting 
takes  nothing  from  anybody." 

The  girl  stared  at  him,  and  then,  to  his 
great  surprise,  laughed  instead  of  being 
angry.  It  was  a  very  fascinating  laugh  in 
her  imperfectly  nourished  pale  face,  and 
her  little  teeth  revealed  the  bluish  milky 
whiteness  of  pips  of  young  Indian  corn. 

"  Wot  yer  lookin'  at  ?  "  she  asked  frankly. 

"  You,"  he  replied,  with  equal  frankness. 

"  It 's  them  duds,"  she  said,  looking  down 
at  her  dress ;  "  I  reckon  I  ain't  got  the  hang 
o'  'em." 

Yet  there  was  not  the  slightest  tone  of 
embarrassment  or  even  coquetry  in  her  man 
ner,  as  with  both  hands  she  tried  to  gather 
in  the  loose  folds  around  her  waist. 


A    TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS       99 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  he  said  gravely. 

She  lifted  up  her  arms  with  childlike 
simplicity  and  backed  toward  him  as  he 
stepped  behind  her,  drew  in  the  folds,  and 
pinned  them  around  what  proved  a  very 
small  waist  indeed.  Then  he  untied  the 
apron,  took  it  off,  folded  it  in  half,  and  re- 
tied  its  curtailed  proportions  around  the 
waist.  "  It  does  feel  a  heap  easier,"  she 
said,  with  -a  little  shiver  of  satisfaction,  as 
she  lifted  her  round  cheek,  and  the  tail  of 
her  blue  eyes  with  their  brown  lashes,  over 
her  shoulder.  It  was  a  tempting  moment  — 
but  Jack  felt  that  the  whole  race  of  gold 
hunters  was  on  trial  just  then,  and  was  ada 
mant  !  Perhaps  he  was  a  gentle  fellow  at 
heart,  too. 

"  I  could  loop  up  that  dress  also,  if  I  had 
more  pins,"  he  remarked  tentatively.  Jack 
had  sisters  of  his  own. 

The  pins  were  forthcoming.  In  this  oper 
ation  —  a  kind  of  festooning  —  the  girl's  pet 
ticoat,  a  piece  of  common  washed-out  blue 
flannel,  as  pale  as  her  eyes,  but  of  the  com 
monest  material,  became  visible,  but  without 
fear  or  reproach  to  either. 

"  There,  that  looks  more  tidy,"  said  Jack, 


100      A   TREASURE   OF   THE   REDWOODS 

critically  surveying  his  work  and  a  little  of 
the  small  ankles  revealed.  The  girl  also 
examined  it  carefully  by  its  reflection  on 
the  surface  of  the  saucepan.  "  Looks  a  lit 
tle  like  a  chiny  girl,  don't  it  ?  " 

Jack  would  have  resented  this,  think 
ing  she  meant  a  Chinese,  until  he  saw  her 
pointing  to  a  cheap  crockery  ornament, 
representing  a  Dutch  shepherdess,  on  the 
shelf.  There  was  some  resemblance. 

"  You  beat  mammy  out  o'  sight !  "  she  ex 
claimed  gleefully.  "  It  will  jest  set  her  clear 
crazy  when  she  sees  me." 

"  Then  you  had  better  say  you  did  it 
yourself,"  said  Fleming. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  suddenly  open 
ing  her  eyes  on  him  with  relentless  frank 
ness. 

"  You  said  your  father  did  n't  like  min 
ers,  and  he  might  n't  like  your  lending  your 
pan  to  me." 

"  I  'm  more  afraid  o'  lyin'  than  o'  dad," 
she  said  with  an  elevation  of  moral  sentiment 
that  was,  however,  slightly  weakened  by  the 
addition,  "  Mammy  '11  say  anything  I  '11  tell 
her  to  say." 

"  Well,  good-by,"  said  Fleming,  extend 
ing  his  hand. 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS      101 

"  Ye  did  n't  tell  me  what  luck  ye  had  with 
the  pan,"  she  said,  delaying  taking  his  hand. 

Fleming  shrugged  his  shoidders.  "  Oh, 
my  usual  luck,  —  nothing,"  he  ret urned,  with 
a  smile. 

"  Ye  seem  to  keer  more  for  gettin'  yer  old 
ring  back  than  for  any  luck,"  she  continued. 
"  I  reckon  you  ain't  much  o'  a  miner." 

"  I  'm  afraid  not." 

"  Ye  did  n't  say  wot  yer  name  was,  in 
case  dad  wants  to  know." 

"  I  don't  think  he  will  want  to  ;  but  it 's 
John  Fleming." 

She  took  his  hand.  "  You  did  n't  tell  me 
yours,"  he  said,  holding  the  little  red  fingers, 
"  in  case  1  wanted  to  know." 

It  pleased  her  to  consider  the  rejoinder 
intensely  witty.  She  showed  all  her  little 
teeth,  threw  away  his  hand,  and  said :  — 

"  G'  long  with  ye,  Mr.  Fleming.  It 's 
Tinka"  — 

"Tinker?" 

u  Yes  ;  short  for  Katinka,  —  Katinka 
Jallinger." 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Jallinger." 

"  Good-by.  Dad's  name  is  Henry  Boone 
Jallinger,  of  Kentucky,ef  ye  was  ever  askin'." 


102      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

"  Thank  you." 

He  turned  away  as  she  swiftly  reentered 
the  house.  As  he  walked  away,  he  half 
expected  to  hear  her  voice  uplifted  again  in 
the  camp-meeting  chant,  but  he  was  dis 
appointed.  When  he  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill  he  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  cabin. 

She  was  apparently  waiting  for  this,  and 
waved  him  an  adieu  with  the  humble  pan  he 
had  borrowed.  It  flashed  a  moment  daz- 
zlingly  as  it  caught  the  declining  sun,  and 
then  went  out,  even  obliterating  the  little 
figure  behind  it. 

PART  II 

Mr.  Jack  Fleming  was  indeed  "  not  much 
of  a  miner."  He  and  his  partners  —  both 
as  young,  hopeful,  and  inefficient  as  him 
self  —  had  for  three  months  worked  a  claim 
in  a  mountain  mining  settlement  which 
yielded  them  a  certain  amount  of  healthy 
exercise,  good-humored  grumbling,  and  ex 
alted  independence.  To  dig  for  three  or 
four  hours  in  the  morning,  smoke  their  pipes 
under  a  redwood-tree  for  an  hour  at  noon, 
take  up  their  labors  again  until  sunset,  when 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS      103 

they  "  washed  up "  and  gathered  sufficient 
gold  to  pay  for  their  daily  wants,  was,  with 
out  their  seeking  it,  or  even  knowing  it,  the 
realization  of  a  charming  socialistic  ideal 
which  better  men  than  themselves  had  only 
dreamed  of.  Fleming  fell  back  into  this 
refined  barbarism,  giving  little  thought  to 
his  woodland  experience,  and  no  revelation 
of  it  to  his  partners.  He  had  transacted 
their  business  at  the  mining  town.  His 
deviations  en  route  were  nothing  to  them, 
and  small  account  to  himself. 
»  The  third  day  after  his  return  he  was 
lying  under  a  redwood  when  his  partner 
approached  him. 

"  You  are  n't  uneasy  in  your  mind  about 
any  unpaid  bill  —  say  a  wash  bill — that 
you  're  owing  ?  " 

"Why?" 

"  There  's  a  big  nigger  woman  in  camp 
looking  for  you ;  she  ?s  got  a  folded  account 
paper  in  her  hand.  It  looks  deucedly  like 
a  bill." 

"  There  must  be  some  mistake,"  suggested 
Fleming,  sitting  up. 

"  She  says  not,  and  she 's  got  your  name 
pat  enough  !  Faulkner  "  (his  other  partner) 


104      A   TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS 

"  headed  her  straight  up  the  gulch,  away  from 
camp,  while  I  came  down  to  warn  you.  So 
if  you  choose  to  skedaddle  into  the  brush  out 
there  and  lie  low  until  we  get  her  away, 
we  '11  fix  it !  " 

"  Nonsense !     I  '11  see  her." 

His  partner  looked  aghast  at  this  temerity, 
but  Fleming,  jumping  to  his  feet,  at  once 
set  out  to  meet  his  mysterious  visitor.  This 
was  no  easy  matter,  as  the  ingenious  Faulk 
ner  was  laboriously  leading  his  charge  up 
the  steep  gulch  road,  with  great  politeness, 
but  many  audible  misgivings  as  to  whether 
this  was  not  "  Jack  Fleming's  day  for  going 
to  Jamestown." 

He  was  further  lightening  the  journey  by 
cheering  accounts  of  the  recent  depredations 
of  bears  and  panthers  in  that  immediate  lo 
cality.  When  overtaken  by  Fleming  he  af 
fected  a  start  of  joyful  surprise,  to  conceal 
the  look  of  warning  which  Fleming  did  not 
heed,  —  having  no  eyes  but  for  Faulkner's 
companion.  She  was  a  very  fat  negro  woman, 
panting  with  exertion  and  suppressed  impa 
tience.  Fleming's  heart  was  filled  with  com 
punction. 

"  Is  you  Marse  Fleming  ?  "  she  gasped. 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  RED  WOODS   105 

"  Yes,"  said  Fleming  gently.  "  What  can 
I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Well !  Ye  kin  pick  dis  yar  insek,  dis 
caterpillier,"  she  said,  pointing  to  Faulkner, 
"  off  niy  paf .  Ye  kin  tell  dis  yar  chipmunk 
dat  when  he  comes  to  showin'  me  mide 
tracks  for  b'ar  tracks,  he  ?s  barkin'  up  de 
wrong  tree  !  Dat  when  he  tells  me  dat  he 
sees  panfers  a-promenadin'  round  in  de  short 
grass  or  hidin'  behime  rocks  in  de  open,  he 
hain't  talkin'  to  no  nigger  chile,  but  a  growed 
woman  !  Ye  kin  tell  him  dat  Mammy  Curtis 
lived  in  de  woods  afo'  he  was  born,  and  hez 
seen  more  b'ars  and  mountain  lyuns  dan  he 
hez  hairs  in  his  mustarches." 

The  word  "  Mammy "  brought  a  flash  of 
recollection  to  Fleming. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  began ;  but  to 
his  surprise  the  negro  woman  burst  into  a 
good-tempered  laugh.  "  All  right,  honey  ! 
S'  long  's  you  is  Marse  Fleming  and  de  man 
dat  took  dat  'ar  pan  offer  Tinka  de  odder 
day,  I  ain't  mindin'  yo'  frens'  bedevilments. 
I  've  got  somefin  fo'  you,  yar,  and  a  little 
box,"  and  she  handed  him  a  folded  paper. 

Fleming  felt  himself  reddening,  he  knew 
not  why,  at  which  Faulkner  discreetly  but 


106      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

ostentatiously  withdrew,  conveying  to  his 
other  partner  painful  conviction  that  Fleming 
had  borrowed  a  pan  from  a  traveling  tinker, 
whose  negro  wife  was  even  now  presenting  a 
bill  for  the  same,  and  demanding  a  settle 
ment.  Eelieved  by  his  departure,  Fleming 
hurriedly  tore  open  the  folded  paper.  It 
was  a  letter  written  upon  a  leaf  torn  out  of 
an  old  account  book,  whose  ruled  lines  had 
undoubtedly  given  his  partners  the  idea  that 
it  was  a  bill.  Fleming  hurriedly  read  the 
following,  traced  with  a  pencil  in  a  school 
girl's  hand : — 

MR.  J.  FLEMING. 

Dear  Sir,  —  After  you  went  away  that 
day  I  took  that  pan  you  brought  back  to  mix 
a  batch  of  bread  and  biscuits.  The  next 
morning  at  breakfast  dad  says :  "  What 's 
gone  o'  them  thar  biscuits  —  my  teeth  is 
just  broke  with  them  —  they  're  so  gritty  — 
they  're  abominable !  What 's  this?  "  says  he, 
and  with  that  he  chucks  over  to  me  two  or 
three  flakes  of  gold  that  was  in  them.  You 
see  what  had  happened,  Mr.  Fleming,  was 
this  !  You  had  better  luck  than  you  was 
knowing  of !  It  was  this  way !  Some  of 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS      107 

the  gold  you  washed  had  got  slipped  into 
the  sides  of  the  pan  where  it  was  broke,  and 
the  sticky  dough  must  have  brought  it  out, 
and  I  kneaded  them  up  unbeknowing.  Of 
course  I  had  to  tell  a  wicked  lie,  but  "  Be 
ye  all  things  to  all  men,"  says  the  Book,  and 
I  thought  you  ought  to  know  your  good  luck, 
and  I  send  mammy  with  this  and  the  gold  in 
a  little  box.  Of  course,  if  dad  was  a  hunter 
of  Mammon  and  not  of  God's  own  beasts, 
he  would  have  been  mighty  keen  about  find 
ing  where  it  came  from,  but  he  allows  it  was 
iri  the  water  in  our  near  spring.  So  good-by. 
Do  you  care  for  your  ring  now  as  much  as 
you  did? 

Yours  very  respectfully, 

KATINKA  JALLINGER. 

As  Mr.  Fleming  glanced  up  from  the 
paper,  mammy  put  a  small  cardboard  box  in 
his  hand.  For  an  instant  he  hesitated  to 
open  it,  not  knowing  how  far  mammy  was 
intrusted  with  the  secret.  To  his  great  re 
lief  she  said  briskly  :  "  Well,  dar  !  now  dat 
job 's  done  gone  and  offen  my  han's,  I  allow 
to  quit  and  jest  get  off  dis  yer  camp  afo'  ye 
kin  shake  a  stick.  So  don't  tell  me  nuffin 
I  ain't  gotter  tell  when  I  goes  back." 


108      A   TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS 

Fleming  understood.  "  You  can  tell  her 
I  thank  her — and  —  I'll  attend  to  it,"  he 
said  vaguely  ;  "  that  is  —  I  "  — 

"  Hold  dar !  that 's  just  enuff,  honey  — 
no  mo'  !  So  long  to  ye  and  youse  folks." 

He  watched  her  striding  away  toward  the 
main  road,  and  then  opened  the  box. 

It  contained  three  flakes  of  placer  or  sur 
face  gold,  weighing  in  all  about  a  quarter  of 
an  ounce.  They  could  easily  have  slipped 
into  the  interstices  of  the  broken  pan  and 
not  have  been  observed  by  him.  If  this  was 
the  result  of  the  washing  of  a  single  pan  — 
and  he  could  now  easily  imagine  that  other 
flakes  might  have  escaped  —  what —  But 
he  stopped,  dazed  and  bewildered  at  the  bare 
suggestion.  He  gazed  upon  the  vanishing 
figure  of  "mammy."  Could  she  —  could 
Katinka  —  have  the  least  suspicion  of  the 
possibilities  of  this  discovery  ?  Or  had  Pro 
vidence  put  the  keeping  of  this  secret  into 
the  hands  of  those  who  least  understood  its 
importance?  For  an  instant  he  thought  of 
running  after  her  with  a  word  of  caution; 
but  on  reflection  he  saw  that  this  might 
awaken  her  suspicion  and  precipitate  a  dis 
covery  by  another. 


A    TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS      109 

His  only  safety  for  the  present  was  silence, 
until  he  could  repeat  Jiis  experiment.  And 
that  must  be  done  quickly. 

How  shoidd  he  get  away  without  his  part 
ners'  knowledge  of  his  purpose  ?  He  was 
too  loyal  to  them  to  wish  to  keep  this  good 
fortune  to  himself,  but  he  was  not  yet  sure 
of  his  good  fortune.  It  might  be  only  a 
little  "  pocket  "  which  he  had  just  emptied  ; 
it  might  be  a  larger  one  which  another  trial 
woidd  exhaust. 

He  had  put  up  no  "  notice  ;  "  he  might 
find  it  already  in  possession  of  Katinka's 
father,  or  any  chance  prospector  like  himself. 
In  either  case  he  would  be  covered  with  ridi 
cule  by  his  partners  and  the  camp,  or  more 
seriously  rebuked  for  his  carelessness  and 
stupidity.  No  !  he  could  not  tell  them  the 
truth  ;  nor  could  he  lie.  He  would  say  he 
was  called  away  for  a  day  on  private  busi 
ness. 

Luckily  for  him,  the  active  imagination  of 
his  partners  was  even  now  helping  him.  The 
theory  of  the  "  tinker  "  and  the  "  pan  "  was 
indignantly  rejected  by  his  other  partner. 
His  blushes  and  embarrassment  were  sud 
denly  remembered  by  Faulkner,  and  by  the 


110      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

time  he  reached  his  cabin,  they  had  settled 
that  the  negro  woman  had  brought  him  a 
love  letter  !  He  was  young  and  good  look 
ing  ;  what  was  more  natural  than  that  he 
should  have  some  distant  love  affair  ? 

His  embarrassed  statement  that  he  must 
leave  early  the  next  morning  on  business 
that  he  could  not  at  present  disclose  was 
considered  amply  confirmatory,  and  received 
with  maliciously  significant  acquiescence. 
"  Only,"  said  Faulkner,  "  at  your  age, 
sonny,"  —  he  was  nine  months  older  than 
Fleming,  —  "I  should  have  gone  to-night" 
Surely  Providence  was  favoring  him  ! 

He  was  off  early  the  next  morning.  He 
was  sorely  tempted  to  go  first  to  the  cabin, 
but  every  moment  was  precious  until  he  had 
tested  the  proof  of  his  good  fortune. 

It  was  high  noon  before  he  reached  the 
fringe  of  forest.  A  few  paces  farther  and 
he  found  the  spring  and  outcrop.  To  avert 
his  partners'  suspicions  he  had  not  brought 
his  own  implements,  but  had  borrowed  a 
pan,  spade,  and  pick  from  a  neighbor's  claim 
before  setting  out.  The  spot  was  apparently 
in  the  same  condition  as  when  he  left  it,  and 
with  a  beating  heart  he  at  once  set  to  work, 


A    TREASURE   OF   THE   REDWOODS      111 

an  easy  task  with  his  new  implements.  He 
nervously  watched  the  water  overflow  the 
pan  of  dirt  at  its  edges  until,  emptied  of 
earth  and  gravel,  the  black  sand  alone  cov 
ered  the  bottom.  A  slight  premonition  of 
disappointment  followed ;  a  rich  indication 
would  have  shown  itself  before  this  !  A  few 
more  workings,  and  the  pan  was  quite  empty 
except  for  a  few  pin-points  of  "  color," 
almost  exactly  the  quantity  he  found  before. 
He  washed  another  pan  with  the  same  result. 
Another  taken  from  a  different  level  of  the 
outcrop  yielded  neither  more  nor  less ! 
There  was  no  mistake  :  it  was  a  failure  ! 
His  discovery  had  been  only  a  little  "  pocket," 
and  the  few  flakes  she  had  sent  him  were 
the  first  and  last  of  that  discovery. 

He  sat  down  with  a  sense  of  relief ;  he 
could  face  his  partners  again  without  disloy 
alty;  he  could  see  that  pretty  little  figure 
once  more  without  the  compunction  of  hav 
ing  incurred  her  father's  prejudices  by  locat 
ing  a  permanent  claim  so  near  his  cabin.  In 
fact,  he  could  carry  out  his  partners'  fancy 
to  the  letter ! 

He  quickly  heaped  his  implements  to 
gether  and  turned  to  leave  the  wood ;  but  he 


112      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

was  confronted  by  a  figure  that  at  first  he 
scarcely  recognized.  Yet  —  it  was  Katinka ! 
the  young  girl  of  the  cabin,  who  had  sent 
him  the  gold.  She  was  dressed  differently 
—  perhaps  in  her  ordinary  every-day  gar 
ments  —  a  bright  sprigged  muslin,  a  chip 
hat  with  blue  ribbons  set  upon  a  coil  of 
luxurious  brown  hair.  But  what  struck 
him  most  was  that  the  girlish  and  diminu 
tive  character  of  the  figure  had  vanished 
with  her  ill-fitting  clothes ;  the  girl  that 
stood  before  him  was  of  ordinary  height,  and 
of  a  prettiness  and  grace  of  figure  that  he 
felt  would  have  attracted  anywhere.  Flem 
ing  felt  himself  suddenly  embarrassed,  —  a 
feeling  that  was  not  lessened  when  he  no 
ticed  that  her  pretty  lip  was  compressed  and 
her  eyebrows  a  little  straightened  as  she 
gazed  at  him. 

"  Ye  made  a  bee  line  for  the  woods,  I 
see,"  she  said  coldly.  "  I  allowed  ye  might 
have  been  droppin'  in  to  our  house  first." 

"  So  I  should,"  said  Fleming  quickly, 
"  but  I  thought  I  ought  to  first  make  sure 
of  the  information  you  took  the  trouble  to 
send  me."  He  hesitated  to  speak  of  the 
ill  luck  he  had  just  experienced ;  he  could 
laugh  at  it  himself  —  but  would  she  ? 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS       113 

"  And  ye  got  a  new  pan  ?  "  she  said  half 
poutingly. 

Here  seemed  his  opportunity.  "Yes, 
but  I  'm  afraid  it  has  n't  the  magic  of 
yours.  I  have  n't  even  got  the  color.  I 
believe  you  bewitched  your  old  pan." 

Her  face  flushed  a  little  and  brightened, 
and  her  lip  relaxed  with  a  smile.  "  Go 
'long  with  yer !  Ye  don't  mean  to  say  ye 
had  no  luck  to-day  ?  " 

"  None  —  but  in  seeing  you." 

Her  eyes  sparkled.  "  Ye  see,  I  said  all 
'long  ye  were  n't  much  o'  a  miner.  Ye  ain't 
got  no  faith.  Ef  ye  had  as  much  as  a  grain 
o'  mustard  seed,  ye  'd  remove  mountains  ; 
it 's  in  the  Book." 

"  Yes,  and  this  mountain  is  on  the  bed 
rock,  and  my  faith  is  not  strong  enough," 
he  said  laughingly.  "  And  then,  that  would 
be  having  faith  in  Mammon,  and  you  don't 
want  me  to  have  that." 

She  looked  at  him  curiously.  "I  jest 
reckon  ye  don't  care  a  picayune  whether  ye 
strike  anything  or  not,"  she  said  half  admir 
ingly. 

"  To  please  you  I  '11  try  again,  if  you  '11 
look  on.  Perhaps  you  '11  bring  me  luck  as 


114     A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

you  did  before.  You  shall  take  the  pan.  I 
will  fill  it  and  you  shall  wash  it  out.  You  '11 
be  my  mascot" 

She  stiffened  a  little  at  this,  and  then 
said  pertly,  "  Wot 's  that  ?  " 

"My  good  fairy." 

She  smiled  again,  this  time  with  a  new 
color  in  her  pale  face.  "  Maybe  I  am,"  she 
said,  with  sudden  gravity. 

He  quickly  filled  the  pan  again  with  soil, 
brought  it  to  the  spring,  and  first  washed 
out  the  greater  bulk  of  loose  soil.  "  Now 
come  here  and  kneel  down  beside  me,"  he 
said,  "  and  take  the  pan  and  do  as  I  show 
you." 

She  knelt  down  obediently.  Suddenly 
she  lifted  her  little  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
warning.  "  Wait  a  minit  —  jest  a  minit  — 
till  the  water  runs  clear  again." 

The  pool  had  become  slightly  discolored 
from  the  first  washing. 

"That  makes  no  difference,"  he  said 
quickly. 

"  Ah!  but  wait,  please  !  "  She  laid  her 
brown  hand  upon  his  arm ;  a  pleasant 
warmth  seemed  to  follow  her  touch.  Then 
she  said  joyously,  "  Look  down  there." 


A  TREASURE  OF  THE  ZED  WOODS   115 

"Where?"  he  asked. 

"  There  —  don't  ye  see  it  ?  " 

"  See  what  ?  " 

"  You  and  me  !  " 

He  looked  where  she  pointed.  The  pool 
had  settled,  resumed  its  mirror-like  calm, 
and  reflected  distinctly,  not  only  their  two 
bending  faces,  but  their  two  figures  kneel 
ing  side  by  side.  Two  tall  redwoods  rose 
on  either  side  of  them,  like  the  columns 
before  an  altar. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  The 
drone  of  a  bumble-bee  near  by  seemed  to 
make  the  silence  swim  drowsily  in  their 
ears ;  far  off  they  heard  the  faint  beat  of  a 
woodpecker.  The  suggestion  of  their  kneel 
ing  figures  in  this  magic  mirror  was  vague, 
unreasoning,  yet  for  the  moment  none  the 
less  irresistible.  His  arm  instinctively  crept 
around  her  little  waist  as  he  whispered,  — 
he  scarce  knew  what  he  said,  —  "  Perhaps 
here  is  the  treasure  I  am  seeking." 

The  girl  laughed,  released  herself,  and 
sprang  up  ;  the  pan  sank  ingloriously  to  the 
bottom  of  the  pool,  where  Fleming  had  to 
grope  for  it,  assisted  by  Tinka,  who  rolled 
up  her  sleeve  to  her  elbow.  For  a  minute 


116      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

or  two  they  washed  gravely,  but  with  no 
better  success  than  attended  his  own  indi 
vidual  efforts.  The  result  in  the  bottom  of 
the  pan  was  the  same.  Fleming  laughed. 

"  You  see,"  he  said  gayly,  "  the  Mammon 
of  unrighteousness  is  not  for  me  —  at  least, 
so  near  your  father's  tabernacle." 

"  That  makes  no  difference  now,"  said  the 
girl  quickly,  "  for  dad  is  goin'  to  move, 
anyway,  farther  up  the  mountains.  He  says 
it 's  gettin'  too  crowded  for  him  here  — 
when  the  last  settler  took  up  a  section  three 
miles  off." 

"And  are  you  going  too?"  asked  the 
young  man  earnestly. 

Tinka  nodded  her  brown  head.  Fleming 
heaved  a  genuine  sigh.  "  Well,  I  '11  try 
my  hand  here  a  little  longer.  I  '11  put  up 
a  notice  of  claim;  I  don't  suppose  your 
father  would  object.  You  know  he  could  n't 
legally" 

"  I  reckon  ye  might  do  it  ef  ye  wanted 
—  ef  ye  was  that  keen  on  gettin'  gold !  "  said 
Tinka,  looking  away.  There  was  something 
in  the  girl's  tone  which  this  budding  lover 
resented.  He  had  become  sensitive. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "  I  see  that  it  might 


A   TREASURE   OF   THE  REDWOODS      117 

make  unpleasantness  with  your  father.  I 
only  thought,"  he  went  on,  with  tenderer 
tentativeness,  "  that  it  would  be  pleasant  to 
work  here  near  you." 

"  Ye  'd  be  only  wastin'  yer  time,"  she 
said  darkly. 

Fleming  rose  gravely.  "  Perhaps  you  're 
right,"  he  answered  sadly  and  a  little  bit 
terly,  "  and  I  ?11  go  at  once." 

He  walked  to  the  spring,  and  gathered 
up  his  tools.  "  Thank  you  again  for  your 
kindness,  and  good-by." 

.He  held  out  his  hand,  which  she  took  pas 
sively,  and  he  moved  away. 

But  he  had  not  gone  far  before  she  called 
him.  He  turned  to  find  her  still  standing 
where  he  had  left  her,  her  little  hands 
clinched  at  her  side,  and  her  widely  opened 
eyes  staring  at  him.  Suddenly  she  ran  at 
him,  and,  catching  the  lapels  of  his  coat  in 
both  hands,  held  him  rigidly  fast. 

"  No  !  no  !  ye  sha'n't  go  —  ye  must  n't 
go !  "  she  said,  with  hysterical  intensity.  "  I 
want  to  tell  ye  something !  Listen  !  —  you 
—  you  —  Mr.  Fleming !  I  've  been  a  wicked, 
wicked  girl !  I  've  told  lies  to  dad  —  to 
mammy  —  to  you  !  I  Ve  borne  false  wit- 


118      A    TREASURE   OF   THE   REDWOODS 

ness  —  I  'm  worse  than  Sapphira  —  I  've 
acted  a  big  lie.  Oh,  Mr.  Fleming,  I  Ve 
made  you  come  back  here  for  nothing !  Ye 
did  n't  find  no  gold  the  other  day.  There 
was  n't  any.  It  was  all  me  !  I  —  I  — 
salted  that  pan  !  " 

"  Salted  it !  "  echoed  Fleming,  in  amaze 
ment. 

"  Yes, «  salted  it, '  "  she  faltered  ;  "  that's 
what  dad  says  they  call  it  —  what  those 
wicked  sons  of  Mammon  do  to  their  claims 
to  sell  them.  I  —  put  gold  in  the  pan  my 
self  ;  it  was  n't  there  before." 

"  But  why  ?  "  gasped  Fleming. 

She  stopped.  Then  suddenly  the  foun 
tains  in  the  deep  of  her  blue  eyes  were 
broken  up  ;  she  burst  into  a  sob,  and  buried 
her  head  in  her  hands,  and  her  hands  on 
his  shoulder.  "  Because  —  because  " —  she 
sobbed  against  him  —  "  /  wanted  you  to 
come  back ! " 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms.  He  kissed 
her  lovingly,  forgivingly,  gratefully,  tear 
fully,  smilingly  —  and  paused  ;  then  he 
kissed  her  sympathetically,  understandingly, 
apologetically,  explanatorily,  in  lieu  of  other 
conversation.  Then,  becoming  coherent,  he 
asked,  — 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS      119 

"  But  where  did  you  get  the  gold  ?  " 
"  Oh,"  she  said  between  fitful  and  despair 
ing1  sobs,  "  somewhere  !  —  I  don't  know  — 

o 

out  of  the  old  Run  —  long  ago  —  when  I 
was  little!  I  didn't  never  dare  say  any 
thing  to  dad  —  he  'd  have  been  crazy  mad 
at  his  own  daughter  diggin'  —  and  I  never 
cared  nor  thought  a  single  bit  about  it  until 
I  saw  you." 

"  And  you  have  never  been  there  since? " 

"  Never." 

"  Nor  anybody  else  ?  " 
*«  No." 

Suddenly  she  threw  back  her  head ;  her 
chip  hat  fell  back  from  her  face,  rosy  with  a 
dawning  inspiration  !  "  Oh,  say,  Jack !  — 
you  don't  think  that  —  after  all  this  time  — 
there  might  "  She  did  not  finish  the 

sentence,  but,  grasping  his  hand,  cried, 
"  Come ! " 

She  caught  up  the  pan,  he  seized  the 
shovel  and  pick,  and  they  raced  like  boy 
and  girl  down  the  hill.  When  within  a  few 
hundred  feet  of  the  house  she  turned  at 
right  angles  into  the  clearing,  and  saying, 
"  Don't  be  skeered  ;  dad  's  away,"  ran  boldly 
on,  still  holding  his  hand,  along  the  little 


120      A   TREASURE    OF   THE  REDWOODS 

valley.  At  its  farther  extremity  they  came 
to  the  "  Run,"  a  half -dried  watercourse 
whose  rocky  sides  were  marked  by  the  ero 
sion  of  winter  torrents.  It  was  apparently 
as  wild  and  secluded  as  the  forest  spring. 
"  Nobody  ever  came  here,"  said  the  girl 
hurriedly,  "  after  dad  sunk  the  well  at  the 
house." 

One  or  two  pools  still  remained  in  the 
Run  from  the  last  season's  flow,  water 
enough  to  wash  out  several  pans  of  dirt. 

Selecting  a  spot  where  the  white  quartz 
was  visible,  Fleming  attacked  the  bank  with 
the  pick.  After  one  or  two  blows  it  began 
to  yield  and  crumble  away  at  his  feet.  He 
washed  out  a  panful  perfunctorily,  more  in 
tent  on  the  girl  than  his  work ;  she,  eager, 
alert,  and  breathless,  had  changed  places 
with  him,  and  become  the  anxious  prospec 
tor  !  But  the  result  was  the  same.  He  threw 
away  the  pan  with  a  laugh,  to  take  her  little 
hand !  But  she  whispered,  "  Try  again." 

He  attacked  the  bank  once  more  with 
such  energy  that  a  great  part  of  it  caved 
and  fell,  filling  the  pan  and  even  burying 
the  shovel  in  the  debris.  He  unearthed  the 
latter  while  Tinka  was  struggling  to  get  out 
the  pan, 


A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS      121 

"  The  mean  thing  is  stuck  and  won't 
move,"  she  said  pettishly.  "  I  think  it 's 
broken  now,  too,  just  like  ours." 

Fleming  came  laughingly  forward,  and, 
putting  one  arm  around  the  girl's  waist,  at 
tempted  to  assist  her  with  the  other.  The 
pan  was  immovable,  and,  indeed,  seemed  to 
be  broken  and  bent.  Suddenly  he  uttered 
an  exclamation  and  began  hurriedly  to  brush 
away  the  dirt  and  throw  the  soil  out  of  the 
pan. 

In  another  moment  he  had  revealed  a 
fragment  of  decomposed  quartz,  like  discol 
ored  honeycombed  cheese,  half  filling  the 
pan.  But  on  its  side,  where  the  pick  had 
struck  it  glancingly,  there  was  a  yellow 
streak  like  a  ray  of  sunshine !  And  as  he 
strove  to  lift  it  he  felt  in  that  unmistakable 
omnipotency  of  weight  that  it  was  seamed 
and  celled  with  gold. 

The  news  of  Mr.  Fleming's  engagement, 
two  weeks  later,  to  the  daughter  of  the  re 
cluse  religious  hunter  who  had  made  a  big 
strike  at  Lone  Run,  excited  some  skeptical 
discussion,  even  among  the  honest  congratu 
lations  of  his  partners. 


122      A    TREASURE    OF   THE   REDWOODS 

"  That 's  a  mighty  queer  story  how  Jack 
got  that  girl  sweet  on  him  just  by  borrowin' 
a  prospectin'  pan  of  her,"  said  Faulkner, 
between  the  whiffs  of  his  pipe  under  the 
trees.  "  You  and  me  might  have  borrowed 
a  hundred  prospectin'  pans  and  never  got 
even  a  drink  thrown  in.  Then  to  think  of 
that  old  preachin'  coon-hunter  hevin'  to  give 
in  and  pass  his  strike  over  to  his  daughter's 
feller,  jest  because  he  had  scruples  about 
gold  diggin'  himself.  He  'd  hev  booted  you 
and  me  outer  his  ranch  first." 

"Lord,  ye  ain't  takin'  no  stock  in  that 
hogwash,"  responded  the  other.  "  Why, 
everybody  knows  old  man  Jallinger  pre 
tended  to  be  sick  o'  miners  and  minin' 
camps,  and  couldn't  bear  to  hev  'em  near 
him,  only  jest  because  he  himself  was  all 
the  while  secretly  prospectin'  the  whole  lode 
and  did  n't  want  no  interlopers.  It  was  only 
when  Fleming  nippled  in  by  gettin'  hold  o' 
the  girl  that  Jallinger  knew  the  secret  was 
out,  and  that 's  the  way  he  bought  him  off. 
Why,  Jack  wasn't  no  miner  —  never  was 
—  ye  could  see  that.  He  never  struck  any 
thing.  The  only  treasure  he  found  in  the 
woods  was  Tinka  Jallinger !  " 


A  BELLE  OF  CANADA  CITY 

CISSY  was  tying  her  hat  under  her  round 
chin  before  a  small  glass  at  her  window.  The 
window  gave  upon  a  background  of  serrated 
mountain  and  olive-shadowed  canon,  with  a 
faint  additional  outline  of  a  higher  snow 
level  —  the  only  dreamy  suggestion  of  the 
whole  landscape.  The  foreground  was  a 
glaringly  fresh  and  unpicturesque  mining 
town,  whose  irregular  attempts  at  regularity 
were  set  forth  with  all  the  cruel,  uncompro 
mising  clearness  of  the  Californian  atmos 
phere.  There  was  the  straight  Main  Street 
with  its  new  brick  block  of  "  stores,"  end 
ing  abruptly  against  a  tangled  bluff ;  there 
was  the  ruthless  clearing  in  the  sedate  pines 
where  the  hideous  spire  of  the  new  church 
imitated  the  soaring  of  the  solemn  shafts  it 
had  displaced  with  almost  irreligious  mock 
ery.  Yet  this  foreground  was  Cissy's  world 
—  her  life,  her  sole  girlish  experience.  She 
did  not,  however,  bother  her  pretty  head 
with  the  view  just  then,  but  moved  her 


124  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

cheek  up  and  down  before  the  glass,  the 
better  to  examine  by  the  merciless  glare  of 
the  sunlight  a  few  freckles  that  starred  the 
hollows  of  her  temples.  Like  others  of  her 
sex,  she  was  a  poor  critic  of  what  was  her 
real  beauty,  and  quarreled  with  that  pecul 
iar  texture  of  her  healthy  skin  which  made 
her  face  as  eloquent  in  her  sun-kissed  cheek 
as  in  her  bright  eyes  and  expression.  Nev 
ertheless,  she  was  somewhat  consoled  by  the 
ravishing  effect  of  the  bowknot  she  had 
just  tied,  and  turned  away  not  wholly  dis 
satisfied.  Indeed,  as  the  acknowledged 
belle  of  Canada  City  and  the  daughter  of 
its  principal  banker,  small  wonder  that  a 
certain  frank  vanity  and  childlike  imperi- 
ousness  were  among  her  faults  —  and  her 
attractions. 

She  bounded  down  the  stairs  and  into  the 
front  parlor,  for  their  house  possessed  the 
unheard-of  luxury  of  a  double  drawing- 
room,  albeit  the  second  apartment  contained 
a  desk,  and  was  occasionally  used  by  Cissy's 
father  in  private  business  interviews  with 
anxious  seekers  of  "  advances  "  who  shunned 
the  publicity  of  the  bank.  Here  she  in 
stantly  flew  into  the  arms  of  her  bosom 


A   BELLE   OF  CANADA   CITY          125 

friend,  Miss  Piney  Tibbs,  a  girl  only  a 
shade  or  two  less  pretty  than  herself,  who, 
always  more  or  less  ill  at  ease  in  these 
splendors,  was  awaiting  her  impatiently. 
For  Miss  Tibbs  was  merely  the  daughter  of 
the  hotel-keeper  ;  and  although  Tibbs  was 
a  Southerner,  and  had  owned  "his  own 
niggers  "  in  the  States,  she  was  of  inferior 
position  and  a  protegee  of  Cissy's. 

"  Thank  goodness  you  Ve  come,"  ex 
claimed  Miss  Tibbs,  "  for  I  Ve  bin  sittin' 
here  till  I  nigh  took  root.  What  kep'  ye  ?  " 
,  "  How  does  it  look  ?  "  responded  Cissy, 
as  a  relevant  reply. 

The  "  it  "  referred  to  Cissy's  new  hat, 
and  to  the  young  girl  the  coherence  was 
perfectly  plain.  Miss  Tibbs  looked  at  "  it  " 
severely.  It  would  not  do  for  a  protegee 
to  be  too  complaisant. 

"  Hem !   Must  have  cost  a  heap  o'  money." 

"  It  did  !  Came  from  the  best  milliner 
in  San  Francisco." 

"Of  course,"  said  Piney,  with  half  assumed 
envy.  "  When  your  popper  runs  the  bank 
and  just  wallows  in  gold  !  " 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  replied  Cissy  cheer 
fully.  "  So  '11  your  popper  some  day.  I  'm 


126          A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

goin'  to  get  mine  to  let  your  popper  into 
something  —  Ditch  stocks  and  such.  Yes! 
True,  O  King  !  Popper  '11  do  anything  for 
me,"  she  added  a  little  loftily. 

Loyal  as  Piney  was  to  her  friend,  she  was 
by  no  means  convinced  of  this.  She  knew 
the  difference  between  the  two  men,  and 
had  a  vivid  recollection  of  hearing  her  own 
father  express  his  opinion  of  Cissy's  re 
spected  parent  as  a  "  Gold  Shark "  and 
"  Quartz  Miner  Crusher."  It  did  not,  how 
ever,  affect  her  friendship  for  Cissy.  She 
only  said,  "  Let 's  come !  "  caught  Cissy 
around  the  waist,  pranced  with  her  out  into 
the  veranda,  and  gasped,  out  of  breath, 
"  Where  are  we  goin'  first  ?  " 

"  Down  Main  Street,"  said  Cissy  promptly. 

"  And  let  's  stop  at  Markham's  store. 
They  've  got  some  new  things  in  from  Sacra 
mento,"  added  Piney. 

"  Country  styles,"  returned  Cissy,  with  a 
supercilious  air.  "No!  Besides,  Markham's 
head  clerk  is  gettin'  too  presumptuous.  Just 
guess !  He  asked  me,  while  I  was  buyin' 
something,  if  I  enjoyed  the  dance  last  Mon 
day!  " 

"But  you  danced  with  him,"  said  the 
simple  Piney,  in  astonishment. 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          127 

"  But  not  in  his  store  among  his  custom 
ers,"  said  Cissy  sapiently.  "  No  !  we  're 
going  down  Main  Street  past  Secanips'. 
Those  Secamp  girls  are  sure  to  be  at  their 
windows,  looking  out.  This  hat  will  just 
turn  'em  green  —  greener  than  ever." 

"  You  're  just  horrid,  Ciss !  "  said  Piney, 
with  admiration. 

"  And  then,"  continued  Cissy,  "  we  '11  just 
sail  down  past  the  new  block  to  the  parson's 
and  make  a  call." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  said  Piney  archly.  «  It  '11  be 
just  about  the  time  when  the  new  engineer 
of  the  mill  works  has  a  clean  shirt  on,  and 
is  smoking  his  cigyar  before  the  office." 

Cissy  tossed  her  hat  disdainf idly.  "  Much 
anybody  cares  whether  he  's  there  or  not !  I 
have  n't  forgotten  how  he  showed  us  over 
the  mill  the  other  day  in  a  pair  of  overalls, 
just  like  a  workman." 

"  But  they  say  he  's  awfully  smart  and 
well  educated,  and  need  n't  work,  and  I  'm 
sure  it 's  very  nice  of  him  to  dress  just  like 
the  other  men  when  he  's  with  'em,"  urged 
Piney. 

"  Bah !  That  was  just  to  show  that  he 
did  n't  care  what  we  thought  of  him,  he  's 


128  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

that  conceited!  And  it  wasn't  respectful, 
considering  one  of  the  directors  was  there, 
all  dressed  up.  Don't  tell  me!  You  can 
see  it  in  his  eye,  looking  you  over  without 
blinking  and  then  turning  away  as  if  he  'd 
got  enough  of  you.  He  makes  me  tired." 

Piney  did  not  reply.  The  engineer  had 
seemed  to  her  to  be  a  singularly  attractive 
young  man,  yet  she  was  equally  impressed 
with  Cissy's  superior  condition,  which  could 
find  flaws  in  such  perfection.  Following 
her  friend  down  the  steps  of  the  veranda, 
they  passed  into  the  staring  graveled  walk 
of  the  new  garden,  only  recently  recovered 
from  the  wild  wood,  its  accurate  diamond 
and  heart  shaped  beds  of  vivid  green  set  in 
white  quartz  borders  giving  it  the  appear 
ance  of  elaborately  iced  confectionery.  A 
few  steps  further  brought  them  to  the  road 
and  the  wooden  "  sidewalk  "  to  Main  Street, 
which  carried  civic  improvements  to  the  hill 
side,  and  Mr.  Trixit's  very  door.  Turning 
down  this  thoroughfare,  they  stopped  laugh 
ing,  and  otherwise  assumed  a  conscious  half 
artificial  air ;  for  it  was  the  hour  when 
Canada  City  lounged  listlessly  before  its 
shops,  its  saloons,  its  offices  and  mills,  or 


A    BELLE    OF    C  AX  AD  A    CITY  129 

even  held  lazy  meetings  in  the  dust  of  the 
roadway,  and  the  passage  down  the  prin 
cipal  street  of  its  two  prettiest  girls  was  an 
event  to  be  viewed  as  if  it  were  a  civic  pro 
cession.  Hats  flew  off  as  they  passed ;  place 
was  freely  given  ;  impeding  barrels  and  sacks 
were  removed  from  the  wooden  pavement,  and 
preoccupied  indwellers  hastily  summoned  to 
the  front  door  to  do  homage  to  Cissy  Trixit 
and  Piney  as  they  went  by.  Not  but  that 
Canada  City,  in  the  fierce  and  unregenerate 
days  of  its  youth,  had  seen  fairer  and  higher 
colored  faces,  more  gayly  bedizened,  on  its 
thoroughfares,  but  never  anything  so  fresh 
and  innocent.  Men  stood  there  all  uncon 
sciously,  reverencing  their  absent  mothers, 
sisters,  and  daughters,  in  their  spontaneous 
homage  to  the  pair,  and  seemed  to  feel  the 
wholesome  breath  of  their  Eastern  homes 
wafted  from  the  freshly  ironed  skirts  of 
these  foolish  virgins  as  they  rustled  by.  I 
am  afraid  that  neither  Cissy  nor  Piney 
appreciated  this  feeling ;  few  women  did 
at  that  time  ;  indeed,  these  young  ladies 
assumed  a  slight  air  of  hauteur. 

"Really,   they  do  stare   so,"  said   Cissy, 
with  eyes  dilating  with  pleasurable  emotion  ; 


130  A  BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY 

"  we  '11  have  to  take  the  back  street  next 
time ! " 

Piney,  proud  in  the  glory  reflected  from 
Cissy,  and  in  her  own,  answered,  "  We  will 
—  sure!" 

There  was  only  one  interruption  to  this 
triumphal  progress,  and  that  was  so  slight 
as  to  be  noticed  by  only  one  of  the  two  girls. 
As  they  passed  the  new  works  at  the  mill, 
the  new  engineer,  as  Piney  had  foreseen, 
was  leaning  against  the  doorpost,  smoking  a 
pipe.  He  took  his  hat  from  his  head  and 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth  as  they  approached, 
and  greeted  them  with  an  easy  "  Good-after 
noon,"  yet  with  a  glance  that  was  quietly 
observant  and  tolerantly  critical. 

"  There ! "  said  Cissy,  when  they  had 
passed,  "  did  n't  I  tell  you  ?  Did  you  ever 
see  such  conceit  in  your  born  days  ?  I  hope 
you  did  not  look  at  him." 

Piney,  conscious  of  having  done  so,  and 
of  having  blushed  under  his  scrutiny,  never 
theless  stoutly  asserted  that  she  had  merely 
looked  at  him  "to  see  who  it  was."  But 
Cissy  was  placated  by  passing  the  Secamps' 
cottage,  from  whose  window  the  three  strap 
ping  daughters  of  John  Secamp,  lately  an 


A   BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY          131 

emigrant  from  Missouri,  were,  as  Cissy  had 
surmised,  lightening  the  household  duties 
by  gazing  at  the  —  to  them  —  unwonted 
wonders  of  the  street.  Whether  their  com 
plexions,  still  bearing  traces  of  the  alkali 
dust  and  inefficient  nourishment  of  the 
plains,  took  a  more  yellow  tone  from  the 
spectacle  of  Cissy's  hat,  I  cannot  say.  Cissy 
thought  they  did ;  perhaps  Piney  was  nearer 
the  truth  when  she  suggested  that  they  were 
only  "looking"  to  enable  them  to  make  a 
home-made  copy  of  the  hat  next  week. 

Their  progress  forward  and  through  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  was  of  the  same  trium 
phal  character.  Teamsters  withheld  their 
oaths  and  their  uplifted  whips  as  the  two 
girls  passed  by;  weary  miners,  toiling  in 
ditches,  looked  up  with  a  pleasure  that  was 
half  reminiscent  of  their  past ;  younger  sky- 
larkers  stopped  in  their  horse-play  with  half 
smiling,  half  apologetic  faces ;  more  ambi 
tious  riders  on  the  highway  urged  their 
horses  to  greater  speed  under  the  girls'  in 
spiring  eyes,  and  "  Vaquero  Billy,"  charging 
them,  full  tilt,  brought  up  his  mustang  on 
its  haunches  and  rigid  forelegs,  with  a  sweep 
ing  bow  of  his  sombrero,  within  a  foot  of 


132  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

their  artfully  simulated  terror !  In  this  way 
they  at  last  reached  the  clearing  in  the  for 
est,  the  church  with  its  ostentatious  spire, 
and  the  Eeverend  Mr.  Windibrook's  dwell 
ing,  otherwise  humorously  known  as  "  The 
Pastorage,"  where  Cissy  intended  to  call. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Windibrook  had  been 
selected  by  his  ecclesiastical  superiors  to 
minister  to  the  spiritual  wants  of  Canada 
City  as  being  what  was  called  a  "hearty" 
man.  Certainly,  if  considerable  lung  capa 
city,  absence  of  reserve,  and  power  of  hand 
shaking  and  back  slapping  were  necessary 
to  the  redemption  of  Canada  City,  Mr. 
Windibrook's  ministration  would  have  been 
successful.  But,  singularly  enough,  the  rude 
miner  was  apt  to  resent  this  familiarity,  and 
it  is  recorded  that  Isaac  Wood,  otherwise 
known  as  "  Grizzly  Woods,"  once  responded 
to  a  cheerful  back  slap  from  the  reverend 
gentleman  by  an  ostentatiously  friendly  hug 
which  nearly  dislocated  the  parson's  ribs. 
Perhaps  Mr.  Windibrook  was  more  popular 
on  account  of  his  admiring  enthusiasm  of 
the  prosperous  money-getting  members  of  his 
flock  and  a  singular  sympathy  with  their 
methods,  and  Mr.  Trixit's  daring  specula- 


A   BELLE    OF  CANADA    CITY          133 

tions  were  an  especially  delightful  theme  to 
him. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Trixit,"  he  said,  as  Cissy 
entered  the  little  parlor,  "  and  how  is  your 
dear  father  ?  Still  startling  the  money  mar 
ket  with  his  fearless  speculations  ?  This, 
brother  Jones,"  turning  to  a  visitor,  "  is  the 
daughter  of  our  Napoleon  of  finance,  Mon 
tagu  Trixit.  Only  last  week,  in  that  deal 
in  *  the  Comstock,'  he  cleared  fifty  thousand 
dollars !  Yes,  sir,"  repeating  it  with  unction, 
"  fifty  —  thousand  —  dollars  !  —  in  about 
two  hours,  and  with  a  single  stroke  of  the 
pen!  I  believe  I  am  not  overstating,  Miss 
Trixit  ?  "  he  added,  appealing  to  Cissy  with 
a  portentous  politeness  that  was  as  badly 
fitting  as  his  previous  "  heartiness." 

Cissy  colored  slightly.  "  I  don't  know," 
she  said  simply.  She  was  perfectly  truthful. 
She  knew  nothing  of  her  father's  business, 
except  the  vague  reputation  of  his  success. 

Her  modesty,  however,  produced  a  singu 
lar  hilarity  in  Mr.  Windibrook,  and  a  play 
ful  push.  "  You  don't  know?  Ha,  but  I 
do.  Yes,  sir,"  —  to  the  visitor,  —  "I  have 
reason  to  remember  it.  I  called  upon  him 
the  next  day.  I  used,  sir,  the  freedom  of 


134  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

an  old  friend.  '  Trixit,'  I  said,  clapping  my 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  4  the  Lord  has  been 
good  to  you.  I  congratulate  you.' 

"  '  H'm  !  '  he  said,  without  looking  up. 
'  What  do  you  reckon  those  congratulations 
are  worth  ?  " 

"  Many  a  man,  sir,  who  did  n't  know  his 
style,  would  have  been  staggered.  But  I 
knew  my  man.  I  looked  him  straight  in 
the  eye.  '  A  new  organ,'  I  said,  4  and  as 
good  a  one  as  Sacramento  can  turn  out.' 

"  He  took  up  a  piece  of  paper,  scrawled  a 
few  lines  on  it  to  his  cashier,  and  said, 
'Will  that  do?'  "  Mr.  Windibrook's  voice 
sank  to  a  thrilling  whisper.  "  It  was  an 
order  for  one  thousand  dollars !  Fact,  sir. 
That  is  the  father  of  this  young  lady." 

"  Ye  had  better  luck  than  Bishop  Briggs 
had  with  old  Johnson,  the  Excelsior  Bank 
president,"  said  the  visitor,  encouraged  by 
Windibrook's  "  heartiness  "  into  a  humorous 
retrospect.  "  Briggs  goes  to  him  for  a  sub 
scription  for  a  new  fence  round  the  buryin'- 
ground  —  the  old  one  havin'  rotted  away. 
'  Ye  don't  want  no  fence,'  sez  Johnson,  short 
like.  '  No  fence  round  a  buryin'-ground  ? ' 
sez  Briggs,  starin'.  'No!  Them  as  is  in 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          135 

the  buryin'-ground  can't  get  out,  and  them 
as  is  n't  don't  want  to  get  in,  nohow !  So 
you  kin  just  travel  —  I  ain't  givin'  money 
away  on  uselessnesses  ! '  Ha !  ha !  " 

A  chill  silence  followed,  which  checked 
even  Piney's  giggle.  Mr.  Windibrook  evi 
dently  had  no  "  heartiness  "  for  non-subscrib 
ing  humor.  "  There  are  those  who  can  jest 
with  sacred  subjects,"  he  said  ponderously, 
"  but  I  have  always  found  Mr.  Trixit, 
though  blunt,  eminently  practical.  Your 
father  is  still  away,"  he  added,  shifting  the 
conversation  to  Cissy,  "hovering  wherever 
he  can  extract  the  honey  to  store  up  for  the 
provision  of  age.  An  industrious  worker." 

"  He 's  still  away,"  said  Cissy,  feeling  her 
self  on  safe  ground,  though  she  was  not  aware 
of  her  father's  entomological  habits.  "In 
San  Francisco,  I  think." 

She  was  glad  to  get  away  from  Mr.  Win- 
dibrook's  "  heartiness "  and  console  herself 
with  Mrs.  Windibrook's  constitutional  de 
pression,  which  was  partly  the  result  of  ner 
vous  dyspepsia  and  her  husband's  boisterous 
cordiality.  "  I  suppose,  dear,  you  are  dread 
fully  anxious  about  your  father  when  he  is 
away  from  home  ?  "  she  said  to  Cissy,  with  a 
sympathetic  sigh. 


136  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY 

Cissy,  conscious  of  never  having  felt  a 
moment's  anxiety,  and  accustomed  to  his 
absences,  replied  naively,  "  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  responded  Mrs.  Windibrook,  "  on 
account  of  his  great  business  responsibilities, 
you  know ;  so  much  depends  upon  him." 

Again  Cissy  did  not  comprehend ;  she  could 
not  understand  why  this  masterful  man,  her 
father,  who  was  equal  to  her  own  and,  it 
seemed,  everybody's  needs,  had  any  responsi 
bility,  or  was  not  as  infallible  and  constant 
as  the  sunshine  or  the  air  she  breathed. 
Without  being  his  confidante,  or  even  his 
associate,  she  had  since  her  mother's  death 
no  other  experience  ;  youthfully  alive  to  the 
importance  of  their  wealth,  it  seemed  to  her, 
however,  only  a  natural  result  of  being  his 
daughter.  She  smiled  vaguely  and  a  little 
impatiently.  They  might  have  talked  to  her 
about  herself ;  it  was  a  little  tiresome  to 
always  have  to  answer  questions  about  her 
"  popper."  Nevertheless,  she  availed  her 
self  of  Mrs.  Windibrook's  invitation  to  go 
into  the  garden  and  see  the  new  summer- 
house  that  had  been  put  up  among  the  pines, 
and  gradually  diverted  her  hostess's  conver 
sation  into  gossip  of  the  town.  If  it  was 


A    BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          137 

somewhat  lugubrious  and  hesitating,  it  was, 
however,  a  relief  to  Cissy,  and  bearing  chiefly 
upon  the  vicissitudes  of  others,  gave  her  the 
comforting  glow  of  comparison. 

Touching  the  complexion  of  the  Secamp 
girls,  Mrs.  Windibrook  attributed  it  to  their 
great  privations  in  the  alkali  desert.  "  One 
day,"  continued  Mrs.  ^Vindibrook,  "  when 
their  father  was  ill  with  fever  and  ague,  they 
drove  the  cattle  twenty  miles  to  water 
through  that  dreadful  poisonous  dust,  and 
when  they  got  there  their  lips  were  cracked 
arid  bleeding  and  their  eyelids  like  burning 
knives,  and  Mamie  Secamp's  hair,  which 
used  to  be  a  beautiful  brown  like  your  own, 
my  dear,  was  bleached  into  a  rusty  yellow." 

"And  they  will  wear  colors  that  don't 
suit  them,"  said  Cissy  impatiently. 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Windi 
brook  ambiguously  ;  "I  suppose  they  will 
have  their  reward." 

Nor  was  the  young  engineer  discussed  in 
a  lighter  vein.  "  It  pains  me  dreadfully  to 
see  that  young  man  working  with  the  com 
mon  laborers  and  giving  himself  no  rest,  just 
because  he  says  he  wants  to  know  exactly 
4  how  the  thing  is  done  '  and  why  the  old 


138  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

works  failed,"  she  remarked  sadly.  "  When 
Mr.  Windibrook  knew  he  was  the  son  of 
Judge  Masterton  and  had  rich  relations,  he 
wished,  of  course,  to  be  civil,  but  somehow 
young  Masterton  and  he  did  n't  '  hit  off.' 
Indeed,  Mr.  Windibrook  was  told  that  he  had 
declared  that  the  prosperity  of  Canada  City 
was  only  a  mushroom  growth,  and  it  seems 
too  shocking  to  repeat,  dear,  but  they  say  he 
said  that  the  new  church  —  our  church  — 
was  simply  using  the  Almighty  as  a  big  bluff 
to  the  other  towns.  Of  course,  Mr.  Windi 
brook  couldn't  see  him  after  that.  Why, 
he  even  said  your  father  ought  to  send  you 
to  school  somewhere,  and  not  let  you  grow- 
up  in  this  half  civilized  place." 

Strangely  enough,  Cissy  did  not  hail  this 
corroboration  of  her  dislike  to  young  Mas 
terton  with  the  liveliness  one  might  have 
expected.  Perhaps  it  was  because  Piney 
Tibbs  was  no  longer  present,  having  left 
Cissy  at  the  parsonage  and  returned  home. 
Still  she  enjoyed  her  visit  after  a  fashion, 
romped  with  the  younger  Windibrooks  and 
climbed  a  tree  in  the  security  of  her  sylvan 
seclusion  and  the  promptings  of  her  still 
healthy,  girlish  blood,  and  only  came  back  to 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY  139 

cake  and  tea  and  her  new  hat,  which  she 
had  prudently  hung  up  in  the  summer-house, 
as  the  afternoon  was  waning.  When  they 
returned  to  the  house,  they  found  that  Mr. 
Windibrook  had  gone  out  with  his  visitor, 
and  Cissy  was  spared  the  advertisement  of  a 
boisterous  escort  home,  which  he  generally 
insisted  upon.  She  gayly  took  leave  of  the 
infant  Windibrook  and  his  mother,  sallied 
out  into  the  empty  road,  and  once  more  be 
came  conscious  of  her  new  hat. 

The  shadows  were  already  lengthening,  and 
a -cool  breeze  stirred  the  deep  aisles  of  the 
pines  on  either  side  of  the  highway.  One 
or  two  people  passed  her  hurriedly,  talking 
and  gesticulating,  evidently  so  preoccupied 
that  they  did  not  notice  her.  Again,  a  rapid 
horseman  rode  by  without  glancing  round, 
overtook  the  pedestrians,  exchanged  a  few 
hurried  words  with  them,  and  then  spurred 
swiftly  away  as  one  of  them  shouted  after 
him,  "  There 's  another  dispatch  confirm 
ing  it."  A  group  of  men  talking  by  the 
roadside  failed  to  look  up  as  she  passed. 
Cissy  pouted  slightly  at  this  want  of  taste, 
which  made  some  late  election  news  or  the 
report  of  a  horse  race  more  enthralling  than 


140  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

her  new  hat  and  its  owner.  Even  the  toil 
ers  in  the  ditches  had  left  their  work,  and 
were  congregated  around  a  man  who  was 
reading  aloud  from  a  widely  margined 
"  extra  "  of  the  "  Canada  City  Press."  It 
seemed  provoking,  as  she  knew  her  cheeks 
were  glowing  from  her  romp,  and  was  con 
scious  that  she  was  looking  her  best.  How 
ever,  the  Secamps'  cottage  was  just  before 
her,  and  the  girls  were  sure  to  be  on  the 
lookout !  She  shook  out  her  skirts  and 
straightened  her  pretty  little  figure  as  she 
approached  the  house.  But  to  her  surprise, 
her  coming  had  evidently  been  anticipated 
by  them,  and  they  were  actually  —  and  un 
expectedly  —  awaiting  her  behind  the  low 
whitewashed  garden  palings  !  As  she  neared 
them  they  burst  into  a  shrill,  discordant 
laugh,  so  full  of  irony,  gratified  malice,  and 
mean  exaltation  that  Cissy  was  for  a  moment 
startled.  But  only  for  a  moment ;  she  had 
her  father's  reckless  audacity,  and  bore  them 
down  with  a  display  of  such  pink  cheeks  and 
flashing  eyes  that  their  laughter  was  checked, 
and  they  remained  open-mouthed  as  she 
swept  by  them. 

Perhaps  this  incident  prevented  her  from 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY  141 

noticing  another  but  more  passive  one.     A 
group  of  men  standing  before  the  new  mill 

—  the   same  men   who  had   so  solicitously 
challenged  her  attention  with  their  bows  a 
couple   of  hours    ago  —  turned   as   she  ap 
proached  and  suddenly   dispersed.     It  was 
not  until  this  was  repeated  by  another  group 
that  its  oddity  forced  itself  upon  her  still 
angry  consciousness.    Then  the  street  seemed 
to  be  f ull  of  those  excited  preoccupied  groups 
who  melted  away  as  she  advanced.     Only 
one  man  met  her  curious  eyes,  —  the  engi 
neer,  —  yet    she    missed   the  usual   critical 
smile  with  which  he  was  wont  to  greet  her, 
and  he  gave  her  a  bow  of  such  profound  re 
spect  and  gravity  that  for  the  first  time  she 
felt  really  uneasy.     AVas  there   something 
wrong  with  her  hat  ?     That  dreadful,  fateful 
hat !     Was   it   too    conspicuous  ?     Did    he 
think  it  was  vulgar  ?     She  was  eager  to  cross 
the    street   on  the  next  block  where  there 
were  large  plate-glass  windows  which  she  and 
Piney  —  if  Piney  were  only  with  her  now ! 

—  had  often  used  as  mirrors. 

But  there  was  a  great  crowd  on  the  next 
block,  congregated  around  the  bank,  —  her 
father's  bank !  A  vague  terror,  she  knew 


142  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY 

not  what,  now  began  to  creep  over  her.  She 
would  have  turned  into  a  side  street,  but 
mingled  with  her  fear  was  a  resolution  not 
to  show  it, — not  to  even  think  of  it,  —  to 
combat  it  as  she  had  combated  the  horrid 
laugh  of  the  Secamp  girls,  and  she  kept  her 
way  with  a  beating  heart  but  erect  head, 
without  looking  across  the  street. 

There  was  another  crowd  before  the  news 
paper  office  —  also  on  the  other  side  —  and 
a  bulletin  board,  but  she  would  not  try  to 
read  it.  Only  one  idea  was  in  her  mind,  — 
to  reach  home  before  any  one  should  speak 
to  her ;  for  the  last  intelligible  sound  that 
had  reached  her  was  the  laugh  of  the  Secamp 
girls,  and  this  was  still  ringing  in  her  ears, 
seeming  to  voice  the  hidden  strangeness  of 
all  she  saw,  and  stirring  her,  as  that  had, 
with  childish  indignation.  She  kept  on  with 
unmoved  face,  however,  and  at  last  turned 
into  the  planked  side-terrace,  —  a  part  of 
her  father's  munificence,  —  and  reached  the 
symmetrical  garden-beds  and  graveled  walk. 
She  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  veranda  and 
entered  the  drawing-room  through  the  open 
French  window.  Glancing  around  the  fa 
miliar  room,  at  her  father's  closed  desk,  at 


A  BELLE   OF   CANADA   CITY          143 

the  open  piano  with  the  piece  of  music  she 
had  been  practicing  that  morning,  the  whole 
walk  seemed  only  a  foolish  dream  that  had 
frightened  her.  She  was  Cissy  Trixit,  the 
daughter  of  the  richest  man  in  the  town  ! 
This  was  her  father's  house,  the  wonder  of 
Canada  City! 

A  ring  at  the  front  doorbell  startled  her ; 
without  waiting  for  the  servant  to  answer  it, 
she  stepped  out  on  the  veranda,  and  saw  a 
boy  whom  she  recognized  as  a  waiter  at  the 
hotel  kept  by  Piney's  father.  He  was  hold 
ing  a  note  in  his  hand,  and  staring  intently 
at  the  house  and  garden.  Seeing  Cissy,  he 
transferred  his  stare  to  her.  Snatching  the 
note  from  him,  she  tore  it  open,  and  read 
in  Piney's  well-known  scrawl,  "  Dad  won't 
let  me  come  to  you  now,  dear,  but  I  '11  try 
to  slip  out  late  to-night."  Why  should  she 
want  to  come  ?  She  had  said  nothing  about 
coming  now  —  and  why  should  her  father 
prevent  her?  Cissy  crushed  the  note  be 
tween  her  ringers,  and  faced  the  boy. 
"  What  are  you  staring  at  —  idiot  ?  " 
The  boy  grinned  hysterically,  a  little 
frightened  at  Cissy's  straightened  brows  and 
snapping  eyes. 


144  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY 

"  Get  away !  there  's  no  answer." 

The  boy  ran  off,  and  Cissy  returned  to 
the  drawing-room.  Then  it  occurred  to  her 
that  the  servant  had  not  answered  the  bell. 
She  rang  again  furiously.  There  was  no 
response.  She  called  down  the  basement 
staircase,  and  heard  only  the  echo  of  her 
voice  in  the  depths.  How  still  the  house 
was  !  Were  they  all  out,  —  Susan,  Norah, 
the  cook,  the  Chinaman,  and  the  gar 
dener?  She  ran  down  into  the  kitchen; 
the  back  door  was  open,  the  fires  were  burn 
ing,  dishes  were  upon  the  table,  but  the 
kitchen  was  empty.  Upon  the  floor  lay  a 
damp  copy  of  the  "extra."  She  picked  it 
up  quickly.  Several  black  headlines  stared 
her  in  the  face.  "  Enormous  Defalcation !  " 
"Montagu  Trixit  Absconded!"  "50,000 
Dollars  Missing !  "  "  Kun  on  the  Bank !  " 

She  threw  the  paper  through  the  open 
door  as  she  would  have  hurled  back  the  ac 
cusation  from  living  lips.  Then,  in  a  revul 
sion  of  feeling  lest  any  one  should  find  her 
there,  she  ran  upstairs  and  locked  herself  in 
her  own  room. 

So  that  was  what  it  ah1  meant !     All !  — 
from  the  laugh  of  the  Secamp  girls  to  the 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          145 

turning  away  of  the  townspeople  as  she  went 
by.  Her  father  was  a  thief  who  had  stolen 
money  from  the  bank  and  run  away  leaving 
her  alone  to  bear  it !  No !  It  was  all  a  lie 

—  a  wicked,  jealous  lie !     A  foolish  lie,  for 
how   coidd  he   steal   money   from  Ms    own 
bank  ?     Cissy  knew  very  little  of  her  father 

—  perhaps   that  was  why   she   believed   in 
him ;  she  knew  still  less  of  business,  but  she 
knew  that  he  did.     She    had   often   heard 
them    say  it  —  perhaps  the  very  ones  who 
now  called  him  names.     He !  who  had  made 
Canada  City  what  it  was  !     He,  who,  Win- 
dibrook  said,  only  to-day,  had,  like   Moses, 
touched  the  rocks  of  the  Canada  with  his 
magic  wand  of  Finance,  and  streams  of  pub 
lic  credit  and  prosperity  had  gushed  from 
it !     She  would  never  speak  to  them  again ! 
She  woidd  shut  herself  up  here,  dismiss  all 
the  servants  but   the    Chinaman,  and  wait 
until  her  father  returned. 

There  was  a  knock,  and  the  entreating 
voice  of  Norah,  the  cook,  outside  the  door. 
Cissy  unlocked  it  and  flung  it  open  indig 
nantly. 

"  Ah !  It 's  yourself,  miss  —  and  I  never 
knew  ye  kem  back  till  I  met  that  gossoon  of 


146  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

a  hotel  waiter  in  the  street,"  said  the  pant 
ing  servant.  "  Sure  it  was  only  an  hour 
ago  while  I  was  at  me  woorrck  in  the  kitchen, 
and  Jim  rushes  in  and  sez :  '  For  the  love 
of  God,  if  iver  ye  want  to  see  a  blessed  cint 
of  the  money  ye  put  in  the  inasther's  bank, 
off  wid  ye  now  and  draw  it  out  —  for  there  's 
a  run  on  the  bank  ! ' ' 

"  It  was  an  infamous  lie,"  said  Cissy 
fiercely. 

"  Sure,  miss,  how  was  oi  to  know  ?  And 
if  the  masther  has  gone  away,  it 's  ownly 
takin'  me  money  from  the  other  divils  down 
there  that 's  drawin'  it  out  and  dividin'  it 
betwixt  and  between  them." 

Cissy  had  a  very  vague  idea  of  what  a 
"  run  on  the  bank  "  meant,  but  Norah's  logic 
seemed  to  satisfy  her  feminine  reason.  She 
softened  a  little. 

"  Mr.  Windibrook  is  in  the  parlor,  miss, 
and  a  jintleinan  on  the  veranda,"  continued 
Norah,  encouraged. 

Cissy  started.  "I'll  come  down,"  she 
said  briefly. 

Mr.  Windibrook  was  waiting  beside  the 
piano,  with  his  soft  hat  in  one  hand  and  a 
large  white  handkerchief  in  the  other.  He 


A  BELLE   OF  CANADA    CITY          147 

had  confidently  expected  to  find  Cissy  in 
tears,  and  was  ready  with  boisterous  condole- 
ment,  but  was  a  little  taken  aback  as  the 
young  girl  entered  with  a  pale  face,  straight 
ened  brows,  and  eyes  that  shone  with  auda 
cious  rebellion.  However,  it  was  too  late 
to  change  his  attitude.  "  Ah,  my  young 
friend,"  he  said  a  little  awkwardly,  "  we 
must  not  give  way  to  our  emotions,  but  try 
to  recognize  in  our  trials  the  benefits  of  a 
great  lesson.  But,"  he  added  hurriedly,  see 
ing  her  stand  still  silent  but  erect  before  him, 
"  I  see  that  you  do  !  "  He  paused,  coughed 
slightly,  cast  a  glance  at  the  veranda,  — 
where  Cissy  now  for  the  first  tune  observed 
a  man  standing  in  an  obviously  assumed 
attitude  of  negligent  abstraction,  —  moved 
towards  the  back  room,  and  in  a  lower  voice 
said,  "  A  word  with  you  in  private." 

Without  replying,  Cissy  followed  him. 

"  If,"  said  Mr.  Windibrook,  with  a  sickly 
smile,  "  you  are  questioned  regarding  your 
father's  affairs,  you  may  remember  his  pe 
culiar  and  utterly  unsolicited  gift  of  a  certain 
sum  towards  a  new  organ,  to  which  I  al 
luded  to-day.  You  can  say  that  he  always 
expressed  great  liberality  towards  the  church, 
and  it  was  no  surprise  to  you." 


148  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

Cissy  only  stared  at  him  with  dangerous 
eyes. 

"  Mrs.  Windibrook,"  continued  the  rever 
end  gentleman  in  his  highest,  heartiest  voice, 
albeit  a  little  hurried,  "  wished  me  to  say  to 
you  that  until  you  heard  from  —  your  friends 
—  she  wanted  you  to  come  and  stay  with 
her.  Do  come  !  Do  !  " 

Cissy,  with  her  bright  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
visitor,  said,  "  I  shall  stay  here." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Windibrook  impatiently, 
"  you  cannot.  That  man  you  see  on  the 
veranda  is  the  sheriff's  officer.  The  house 
and  all  that  it  contains  are  in  the  hands  of 
the  law." 

Cissy's  face  whitened  in  proportion  as  her 
eyes  grew  darker,  but  she  said  stoutly,  "  I 
shall  stay  here  till  my  popper  tells  me  to  go." 

"  Till  your  popper  tells  you  to  go  !  "  re 
peated  Mr.  Windibrook  harshly,  dropping 
his  heartiness  and  his  handkerchief  in  a 
burst  of  unguarded  temper.  "  Your  papa 
is  a  thief  escaping  from  justice,  you  foolish 
girl ;  a  disgraced  felon,  who  dare  not  show 
his  face  again  in  Canada  City  ;  and  you  are 
lucky,  yes  !  lucky,  miss,  if  you  do  not  share 
nis  disgrace !  " 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          149 

"  And  you  're  a  wicked,  wicked  liar !  " 
said  Cissy,  clinching  her  little  fists  at  her 
side  and  edging  towards  him  with  a  side 
long  bantam-like  movement  as  she  advanced 
her  freckled  cheek  close  to  his  with  an  ef 
frontery  so  like  her  absconding  father  that  he 
recoiled  before  it.  "  And  a  mean,  double- 
faced  hypocrite,  too  !  Did  n't  you  always 
praise  him  ?  Did  n't  you  call  him  a  Napo 
leon,  and  a  —  Moses  ?  Did  n't  you  say  he 
was  the  making  of  Canada  City  ?  Did  n't 
you  get  hun  to  raise  your  salary,  and  start  a 
subscription  for  your  new  house  ?  Oh,  you 
—  you  —  stinking  beast !  " 

Here  the  stranger  on  the  veranda,  still 
gazing  abstractedly  at  the  landscape,  gave  a 
low  and  apparently  unconscious  murmur,  as 
if  enraptured  with  the  view.  Mr.  Wincli- 
brook,  recalled  to  an  attempt  at  dignity, 
took  up  his  hat  and  handkerchief.  "  When 
you  have  remembered  yourself  and  your 
position,  Miss  Trixit,"  he  said  loftily,  "  the 
offer  I  have  made  you  "  — 

"  I  despise  it  !  I  'd  sooner  stay  in  the 
woods  with  the  grizzlies  and  rattlesnakes  ?  " 
said  Cissy  pantingly.  "  Go  and  leave  me 
alone  !  Do  you  hear  ?  "  She  stamped  her 
little  foot.  "  Are  you  listening?  Go!  " 


150  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

Mr.  Windibrook  promptly  retreated 
through  the  door  and  down  the  steps  into 
the  garden,  at  which  the  stranger  on  the 
veranda  reluctantly  tore  himself  away  from 
the  landscape  and  slowly  entered  the  parlor 
through  the  open  French  window.  Here, 
however,  he  became  equally  absorbed  and 
abstracted  in  the  condition  of  his  beard, 
carefully  stroking  his  shaven  cheek  and  lips 
and  pulling  his  goatee. 

After  a  pause  he  turned  to  the  angry 
Cissy,  standing  by  the  piano,  radiant  with 
glowing  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes,  and  said 
slowly,  "  I  reckon  you  gave  the  parson  as 
good  as  he  sent.  It  kinder  settles  a  man  to 
hear  the  frozen  truth  about  himself  some 
times,  and  you  Ve  helped  old  Shadbelly  con 
siderably  on  the  way  towards  salvation.  But 
he  was  right  about  one  thing,  Miss  Trixit. 
The  house  is  in  the  hands  of  the  law.  I  'm 
representing  it  as  deputy  sheriff.  Mebbe  you 
might  remember  me  —  Jake  Poole  —  when 
your  father  was  addressing  the  last  Citizen's 
meeting,  sittin'  next  to  him  011  the  platform 
—  /'m  in  possession.  It  isn't  a  job  I 'm 
hankerin'  much  arter ;  I  'd  a  lief  rather 
hunt  hoss  thieves  or  track  down  road  agents 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          151 

than  this  kind  o'  fancy,  underhand  work. 
So  you  '11  excuse  me,  miss,  if  I  ain't  got  the 
style."  He  paused,  rubbed  his  chin  thought 
fully,  and  then  said  slowly  and  with  great 
deliberation :  "  Ef  there 's  any  little  thing 
here,  miss,  —  any  keepsakes  or  such  trifles 
ez  you  keer  for  in  partickler,  things  you 
would  n't  like  strangers  to  have,  —  you  just 
make  a  little  pile  of  'em  and  drop  'em  down 
somewhere  outside  the  back  door.  There 
ain't  no  inventory  taken  nor  sealin'  up  of 
anythin'  done  just  yet,  though  I  have  to  see 
there  ain't  anythin'  disturbed.  But  I  kal- 
kilate  to  walk  out  on  that  veranda  for  a 
spell  and  look  at  the  landscape."  He  paused 
again,  and  said,  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction, 
"  It 's  a  mighty  pooty  view  out  thar  ;  it  just 
takes  me  every  tune." 

As  he  turned  and  walked  out  through  the 
French  window,  Cissy  did  not  for  a  moment 
comprehend  him  ;  then,  strangely  enough, 
his  act  of  rude  courtesy  for  the  first  time 
awakened  her  to  the  full  sense  of  the  situa 
tion.  This  house,  her  father's  house,  was 
no  longer  hers  !  If  her  father  should  never 
return,  she  wanted  nothing  from  it,  nothing  ! 
She  gripped  her  beating  heart  with  the  little 


152  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

hand  she  had  clinched  so  valiantly  a  moment 
ago.  Suddenly  her  hand  dropped.  Some  one 
had  glided  noiselessly  into  the  back  room ;  a 
figure  in  a  blue  blouse  ;  a  Chinaman,  their 
house  servant,  Ah  Fe.  He  cast  a  furtive 
glance  at  the  stranger  on  the  veranda,  and 
then  beckoned  to  her  stealthily.  She  came 
towards  him  wonderingly,  when  he  suddenly 
whipped  a  note  from  his  sleeve,  and  with  a 
dexterous  movement  slipped  it  into  her  fin 
gers.  She  tore  it  open.  A  single  glance 
showed  her  a  small  key  inclosed  in  a  line  of 
her  father's  handwriting.  Drawing  quickly, 
back  into  the  corner,  she  read  as  follows  : 
"  If  this  reaches  you  in  time,  take  from  the 
second  drawer  of  my  desk  an  envelope 
marked  '  Private  Contracts  '  and  give  it  to 
the  bearer."  There  was  neither  signature 
nor  address. 

Putting  her  finger  to  her  lips,  she  cast  a 
quick  glance  at  the  absorbed  figure  on  the 
veranda  and  stepped  before  the  desk.  She 
fitted  the  key  to  the  drawer  and  opened  it 
rapidly  but  noiselessly.  There  lay  the  en 
velope,  and  among  other  ticketed  papers  a 
small  roll  of  greenbacks  —  such  as  her  fa 
ther  often  kept  there.  It  was  his  money ; 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          153 

she  did  not  scruple  to  take  it  with  the  envel 
ope.  Handing  the  latter  to  the  Chinaman, 
who  made  it  instantly  disappear  up  his  sleeve 
like  a  conjurer's  act,  she  signed  him  to  fol 
low  her  into  the  hall. 

"  Who  gave  you  that  note,  Ah  Fe  ?  "  she 
whispered  breathlessly. 

"  Chinaman." 

"  Who  gave  it  to  him  ?  " 

"  Chinaman." 

"  And  to  him  ?  " 

"NoUee  Chinaman." 

. "  Another  Chinaman  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  heap  Chinaman  —  allee  same  as 
gang." 

"You  mean  it  passed  from  one  China 
man's  hand  to  another?" 

"  Allee  same." 

"  Why  did  n't  the  first  Chinaman  who 
got  it  bring  it  here  ?  " 

"  S'pose  Mellikan  man  want  to  catchee 
lettel.  He  spotty  Chinaman.  He  follee 
Chinaman.  Chinaman  passee  lettel  nex' 
Chinaman.  He  no  get.  Mellikan  man  no 
habe  got.  Sabe  ?  " 

"  Then  this  package  -will  go  back  the 
same  way  ?  " 


154  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

"  Allee  same." 

"  And  who  will  you  give  it  to  now  ?  " 

"  Allee  same  man  blingee  me  lettel.  Hop 
Li  —  who  makee  washee." 

An  idea  here  struck  Cissy  which  made 
her  heart  jump  and  her  cheeks  flame.  Ah 
Fe  gazed  at  her  with  an  infantile  smile  of 
admiration. 

"  How  far  did  that  letter    come  ? "   she 

* 

asked,  with  eager  questioning  eyes. 

"  Lettee  me  see  him,"  said  Ah  Fe. 

Cissy  handed  him  the  missive ;  he  exam 
ined  closely  some  half-a-dozen  Chinese  char 
acters  that  were  scrawled  along  the  length 
of  the  outer  fold,  and  which  she  had  inno 
cently  supposed  were  a  part  of  the  markings 
of  the  rice  paper  on  which  the  note  was 
written. 

"Heap  Chinaman  velly  much  walkee  — 
longee  way !  S'pose  you  look."  He  pointed 
through  the  open  front  door  to  the  prospect 
beyond.  It  was  a  familiar  one  to  Cissy,  — 
the  long  Canada,  the  crest  on  crest  of  ser 
ried  pines,  and  beyond  the  dim  snow-line. 
Ah  Fe's  brown  finger  seemed  to  linger 
there. 

"  In  the  snow,"  she  whispered,  her  cheek 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          155 

whitening  like  that  dim  line,  but  her  eyes 
sparkling  like  the  sunshine  over  it. 

"Allee  same,  John,"  said  Ah  Fe  plain 
tively. 

"Ah  Fe,"  whispered  Cissy,  "take  me 
with  you  to  Hop  Li." 

"  No  good,"  said  Ah  Fe  stolidly.  "  Hop 
Li,  he  givee  this  "  — he  indicated  the  envel 
ope  in  his  sleeve  —  "to  next  Chinaman. 
He  no  go.  S'pose  you  go  with  me,  Hop  Li 
—  you  no  makee  nothing  —  allee  same, 
makee  foolee ! " 

"  I  know ;  but  you  just  take  me  there. 
Z>o/" 

The  young  girl  was  irresistible.  Ah  Fe's 
face  relaxed.  "  Allee  litee !  "  he  said,  with 
a  resigned  smile. 

"  You  wait  here  a  moment,"  said  Cissy, 
brightening.  She  flew  up  the  staircase.  In 
a  few  minutes  she  was  back  again.  She 
had  exchanged  her  smart  rose-sprigged  chintz 
for  a  pathetic  little  blue-checked  frock  of  her 
school-days ;  the  fateful  hat  had  given  way 
to  a  brown  straw  "  flat,"  bent  like  a  frame 
around  her  charming  face.  All  the  girlish- 
ness,  and  indeed  a  certain  honest  boyishness 
of  her  nature,  seemed  to  have  come  out  in 


156  A  BELLE    OF   CANADA   CITY 

her  glowing,  freckled  cheek,  brilliant,  au 
dacious  eyes,  and  the  quick  stride  which 
brought  her  to  Ah  Fe's  side. 

"  Now  let 's  go,"  she  said,  "  out  the  back 
way  and  down  the  side  streets."  She 
paused,  cast  a  glance  through  the  drawing- 
room  at  the  contemplative  figure  of  the 
sheriff's  deputy  on  the  veranda,  and  then 
passed  out  of  the  house  forever. 

The  excitement  over  the  failure  of  Mon 
tagu  Trixit's  bank  did  not  burn  itself  out 
until  midnight.  By  that  time,  however,  it 
was  pretty  well  known  that  the  amount  of 
the  defalcations  had  been  exaggerated ;  that 
it  had  been  preceded  by  the  suspension  of 
the  "  Excelsior  Bank  "  of  San  Francisco,  of 
which  Trixit  was  also  a  managing  director, 
occasioned  by  the  discovery  of  the  with 
drawal  of  securities  for  use  in  the  branch 
bank  at  Canada  City ;  that  he  had  fled  the 
State  eastward  across  the  Sierras ;  yet  that, 
owing  to  the  vigilance  of  the  police  on  the 
frontier,  he  had  failed  to  escape  and  was  in 
hiding.  But  there  were  adverse  reports  of 
a  more  sinister  nature.  It  was  said  that 
others  were  implicated ;  that  they  dared  not 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          157 

bring  him  to  justice  ;  it  was  pointed  out  that 
there  was  more  concern  among  many  who 
were  not  openly  connected  with  the  bank 
than  among  its  unfortunate  depositors.  Be 
sides  the  inevitable  downfall  of  those  who 
had  invested  their  fortunes  in  it,  there  was 
distrust  or  suspicion  everywhere.  Even 
Trixit's  enemies  were  forced  to  admit  the 
saying  that  "  Canada  City  was  the  bank, 
and  the  bank  was  Trixit." 

Perhaps  this  had  something  to  do  with  an 
excited  meeting  of  the  directors  of  the  New 
Mill,  to  whose  discussions  Dick  Masterton, 
the  engineer,  had  been  hurriedly  summoned. 
When  the  president  told  him  that  he  had 
been  selected  to  undertake  the  difficult  and 
delicate  mission  of  discovering  the  where 
abouts  of  Montagu  Trixit,  and,  if  possible, 
procuring  an  interview  with  him,  he  was 
amazed.  What  had  the  New  Mill,  which 
had  always  kept  itself  aloof  from  the  bank 
and  its  methods,  to  do  with  the  disgraced 
manager?  He  was  still  more  astonished 
when  the  president  added  bluntly  :  — 

"  Trixit  holds  securities  of  ours  for  money 
advanced  to  the  mill  by  himself  privately. 
They  do  not  appear  on  the  books,  but  if  he 


158  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA   CITY 

chooses  to  declare  them  as  assets  of  the  bank, 
it 's  a  bad  thing  for  us.  If  he  is  bold  enough 
to  keep  them,  he  may  be  willing  to  make 
some  arrangement  with  us  to  carry  them  on. 
If  he  has  got  away  or  committed  suicide,  as 
some  say,  it 's  for  you  to  find  the  where 
abouts  of  the  securities  and  get  them.  He 
is  said  to  have  been  last  seen  near  the  Sum 
mit.  You  understand  our  position  ?  " 

Masterton  did,  with  suppressed  disgust. 
But  he  was  young,  and  there  was  the  thrill 
of  adventure  in  this.  "  I  will  go,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"  We  thought  you  would.  You  must  take 
the  up  stage  to-night.  Come  again  and  get 
your  final  instructions.  By  the  way,  you 
might  get  some  information  at  Trixit's  house. 
You  —  er  —  er  —  are  acquainted  with  his 
daughter,  I  think  ?  " 

"Which  makes  it  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  seek  her  for  such  a  purpose,"  said 
Masterton  coldly. 

A  few  hours  later  he  was  on  the  coach. 
As  they  cleared  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
they  passed  two  Chinamen  plodding  sturdily 
along  in  the  dust  of  the  highway. 


A  BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY          159 

Mr.  Masterton  started  from  a  slight  doze 
in  the  heavy,  lumbering  "  mountain  wagon  " 
which  had  taken  the  place  of  the  smart  Con 
cord  coach  that  he  had  left  at  the  last  station. 
The  scenery,  too,  had  changed;  the  four 
horses  threaded  their  way  through  rocky  de 
files  of  stunted  larches  and  hardy  "  brush," 
with  here  and  there  open  patches  of  shrunken 
snow.  Yet  at  the  edge  of  declivities  he 
could  still  see  through  the  rolled-up  leather 
curtains  the  valley  below  bathed  in  autumn, 
the  glistening  rivers  half  spent  with  the  long 
summer  drought,  and  the  green  slopes  rolling 
upward  into  crest  after  crest  of  ascending 
pines.  At  times  a  drifting  haze,  always 
imperceptible  from  below,  veiled  the  view ; 
a  chill  wind  blew  through  the  vehicle,  and 
made  the  steel  sledge-runners  that  hung  be 
neath  the  wagon,  ready  to  be  shipped  under 
the  useless  wheels,  an  ominous  provision.  A 
few  rude  "  stations,"  half  blacksmith  shops, 
half  grocery,  marked  the  deserted  but  well- 
worn  road ;  a  long,  narrow  "  packer's  "  wagon, 
or  a  tortuous  file  of  Chinamen  carrying  mys 
terious  bundles  depending  from  bamboo  poles, 
was  their  rare  and  only  company.  The  rough 
sheepskin  jackets  which  these  men  wore  over 


160  A   BELLE    OF    CANADA    CITY 

their  characteristic  blue  blouses  and  their 
heavy  leggings  were  a  new  revelation  to 
Masterton,  accustomed  to  the  thinly  clad 
coolie  of  the  mines.  They  seemed  a  distinct 
race. 

"I  never  knew  those  chaps  get  so  high 
up,  but  they  seem  to  understand  the  cold," 
he  remarked. 

The  driver  looked  up,  and  ejaculated  his 
disgust  and  his  tobacco  juice  at  the  same 
moment. 

"  I  reckon  they  're  everywhar  in  Calif  orny 
whar  you  want  'em  and  whar  you  don't ;  you 
take  my  word  for  it,  afore  long  Californy 
will  hev  to  reckon  that  she  ginerally  don't 
want  'em,  ef  a  white  man  has  to  live  here. 
"With  a  race  tied  up  together  in  a  language 
ye  can't  understand,  ways  that  no  feller 
knows,  —  from  their  prayin'  to  devils,  swap- 
pin'  their  wives,  and  havin'  their  bones  sent 
back  to  Chiny,  —  wot  are  ye  goin'  to  do,  and 
where  are  ye  ?  Wot  are  ye  goin'  to  make 
outer  men  that  look  so  much  alike  ye  can't 
tell  'em  apart ;  that  think  alike  and  act 
alike,  and  never  in  ways  that  ye  kin  catch  on 
to  !  Fellers  knotted  together  in  some  under 
hand  secret  way  o'  communicatin'  with  each 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          161 

other,  so  that  ef  ye  kick  a  Chinaman  up 
here  on  the  Summit,  another  Chinaman  will 
squeal  in  the  valley  !  And  the  way  they  do 
it  just  gets  me !  Look  yer !  I  '11  tell  ye 
soniethin'  that  happened,  that 's  gospel  truth ! 
Some  of  the  boys  that  reckoned  to  hev  some 
fun  with  the  Chinee  gang  over  at  Cedar 
Camp  started  out  one  afternoon  to  raid  'em. 
They  groped  along  through  the  woods  whar 
nobody  could  see  'em,  kalkilatin'  to  come 
down  with  a  rush  on  the  camp,  over  two  miles 
away.  And  nobody  did  see  'em,  only  one 
Chinaman  wot  they  met  a  mile  from  the 
camp,  burnin'  punk  to  his  joss  or  devil,  and 
he  scooted  away  just  in  the  contrary  direc 
tion.  "Well,  sir,  when  they  waltzed  into  that 
camp,  darn  my  skin  !  ef  there  was  a  China 
man  there,  or  as  much  as  a  grain  of  rice  to 
grab  !  Somebody  had  warned  'em  !  Well ! 
this  sort  o'  got  the  boys,  and  they  set  about 
discoverin'  how  it  was  done.  One  of  'em 
noticed  that  there  was  some  of  them  bits  of 
tissue  paper  slips  that  they  toss  around  at 
funerals  lyin'  along  the  road  near  the  camp, 
and  another  remembered  that  the  Chinaman 
they  met  on  the  hill  tossed  a  lot  of  that  paper 
in  the  air  afore  he  scooted.  Well,  sir,  the 


162  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA   CITY 

wind  carried  just  enough  of  that  paper 
straight  down  the  hill  into  that  camp  ten 
minutes  afore  they  could  get  there,  to  give 
them  Chinamen  warnin'  —  whatever  it  was ! 
Fact !  Why,  I  Ve  seen  'em  stringin'  along 
the  road  just  like  them  fellers  we  passed  just 
now,  and  then  stop  all  of  a  suddent  like 
hounds  off  the  scent,  jabber  among  them 
selves,  and  start  off  in  a  different  direc 
tion"— 

"  Just  what  they  're  doing  now !  By 
thunder !  "  interrupted  another  passenger, 
who  was  looking  through  the  rolled-up  cur 
tain  at  his  side. 

All  the  passengers  turned  by  one  accord 
and  looked  out.  The  file  of  Chinamen 
under  observation  had  indeed  turned,  and 
was  even  then  moving  rapidly  away  at  right 
angles  from  the  road. 

"  Got  some  signal,  you  bet ! "  said  the 
driver;  "some  yeller  paper  or  piece  o'  joss 
stick  in  the  road.  What  ?  " 

The  remark  was  addressed  to  the  pas 
senger  who  had  just  placed  his  finger  on  his 
lip,  and  indicated  a  stolid-looking  China 
man,  overlooked  before,  who  was  sitting  in 
the  back  or  "  steerage  "  seat. 


A  BELLE   OF  CANADA   CITY          163 

"  Oh,  he  be  darned !  "  said  the  driver  im 
patiently.  "  He,  is  no  account ;  he  's  only 
the  laundryman  from  Rocky  Canon.  I  'm 
talkin'  of  the  coolie  gang." 

But  here  the  conversation  flagged,  and 
the  air  growing  keener,  the  flaps  of  the 
leather  side  curtains  were  battened  down. 
Masterton  gave  himself  up  to  conflicting 
reflections.  The  information  that  he  had 
gathered  was  meagre  and  unsatisfactory, 
and  he  could  only  trust  to  luck  and  circum 
stance  to  fulfill  his  mission.  The  first  glow 
of  adventure  having  passed,  he  was  uneasily 
conscious  that  the  mission  was  not  to  his 
taste.  The  pretty,  flushed  but  defiant  face 
of  Cissy  that  afternoon  haunted  him  ;  he 
had  not  known  the  immediate  cause  of  it, 
but  made  no  doubt  that  she  had  already 
heard  the  news  of  her  father's  disgrace 
when  he  met  her.  He  regretted  now  that 
he  had  n't  spoken  to  her,  if  only  a  few 
formal  words  of  sympathy.  He  had  always 
been  half  tenderly  amused  at  her  frank 
conceit  and  her  "  airs,"  —  the  innocent, 
undisguised  pride  of  the  country  belle,  so 
different  from  the  hard  aplomb  of  the  city 
girl !  And  now  the  foolish  little  moth,  dan- 


164  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

cing  in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity,  had  felt 
the  chill  of  winter  in  its  pretty  wings.  The 
contempt  he  had  for  the  father  had  hitherto 
shown  itself  in  tolerant  pity  for  the  daugh 
ter,  so  proud  of  her  father's  position  and 
what  it  brought  her.  In  the  revelation  that 
his  own  directors  had  availed  themselves 
of  that  father's  methods,  and  the  ignoble 
character  of  his  present  mission,  he  felt  a 
stirring  of  self-reproach.  What  would  be 
come  of  her  ?  Of  course,  frivolous  as  she 
was,  she  would  not  feel  the  keenness  of  this 
misfortune  like  another,  nor  yet  rise  superior 
to  it.  She  would  succumb  for  the  present, 
to  revive  another  season  in  a  dimmer  glory 
elsewhere.  His  critical,  cynical  observation 
of  her  had  determined  that  any  filial  affec 
tion  she  might  have  would  be  merged  and 
lost  in  the  greater  deprivation  of  her  posi 
tion. 

A  sudden  darkening  of  the  landscape 
below,  and  a  singular  opaque  whitening  of 
the  air  around  them,  aroused  him  from  his 
thoughts.  The  driver  drew  up  the  collar  of 
his  overcoat  and  laid  his  whip  smartly  over 
the  backs  of  his  cattle.  The  air  grew  grad 
ually  darker,  until  suddenly  it  seemed  to 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          165 

disintegrate  into  invisible  gritty  particles 
that  swept  through  the  wagon.  Presently 
these  particles  became  heavier,  more  percep 
tible,  and  polished  like  small  shot,  and  a 
keen  wind  drove  them  stingiiigly  into  the 
faces  of  the  passengers,  or  insidiously  into 
their  pockets,  collars,  or  the  folds  of  their 
clothes.  The  snow  forced  itself  through  the 
smallest  crevice. 

"  We  ?11  get  over  this  when  once  we  've 
passed  the  bend ;  the  road  seems  to  dip  be 
yond,"  said  Masterton  cheerfully  from  his 
seat  beside  the  driver. 

The  driver  gave  him  a  single  scornful 
look,  and  turned  to  the  passenger  who  occu 
pied  the  seat  on  the  other  side  of  him.  "  I 
don't  like  the  look  o'  things  down  there,  but 
ef  we  are  stuck,  we  '11  have  to  strike  out  for 
the  next  station." 

"  But,"  said  Masterton,  as  the  wind  vol 
leyed  the  sharp  snow  pellets  in  their  faces 
and  the  leaders  were  scarcely  distinguish 
able  through  the  smoke-like  discharges,  "  it 
can't  be  worse  than  here." 

The  driver  did  not  speak,  but  the  other 
passenger  craned  over  his  back,  and  said 
explanatorily  :  — 


166  A  BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY 

"  I  reckon  ye  don't  know  these  storms ; 
this  kind  o'  dry  snow  don't  stick  and  don't 
clog.  Look !  " 

Indeed,  between  the  volleys,  Masterton 
could  see  that  the  road  was  perfectly  bare 
and  wind-swept,  and  except  slight  drifts  and 
banks  beside  outlying  bushes  and  shrubs,  — 
which  even  then  were  again  blown  away 
before  his  eyes,  —  the  level  landscape  was 
unclothed  and  unchanged.  Where  these 
mysterious  snow  pellets  went  to  puzzled  and 
confused  him ;  they  seemed  to  vanish,  as 
they  had  appeared,  into  the  air  about  them. 

"  I  'd  make  a  straight  rush  for  the  next 
station,"  said  the  other  passenger  confidently 
to  the  driver.  "  If  we  're  stuck,  we  're  that 
much  on  the  way;  if  we  turn  back  now, 
we  '11  have  to  take  the  grade  anyway  when 
the  storm's  over,  and  neither  you  nor  I 
know  when  that  '11  be.  It  may  be  only  a 
squall  just  now,  but  it 's  gettin'  rather  late 
in  the  season.  Just  pitch  in  and  drive  all 
ye  know:" 

The  driver  laid  his  lash  on  the  horses,  and 
for  a  few  moments  the  heavy  vehicle  dashed 
forward  in  violent  conflict  with  the  storm. 
At  times  the  elastic  hickory  framework  of 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          167 

its  domed  leather  roof  swayed  and  bent  like 
the  ribs  of  an  umbrella  ;  at  times  it  seemed 
as  if  it  would  be  lifted  bodily  off ;  at  times 
the  whole  interior  of  the  vehicle  was  filled 
with  a  thin  smoke  by  drifts  through  every 
cranny.  But  presently,  to  Masterton's  great 
relief,  the  interminable  level  seemed  to  end, 
and  between  the  whitened  blasts  he  could 
see  that  the  road  was  descending.  Again 
the  horses  were  urged  forward,  and  at  last 
he  could  feel  that  the  vehicle  began  to  add 
the  momentum  of  its  descent  to  its  conflict 
with  the  storm.  The  blasts  grew  less  vio 
lent,  or  became  only  the  natural  resistance 
of  the  air  to  their  dominant  rush.  With 
the  cessation  of  the  snow  volleys  and  the 
clearing  of  the  atmosphere,  the  road  became 
more  strongly  defined  as  it  plunged  down 
ward  to  a  terrace  on  the  mountain  flank, 
several  hundred  feet  below.  Presently  they 
came  again  upon  a  thicker  growth  of  bushes, 
and  here  and  there  a  solitary  fir.  The  wind 
died  away  ;  the  cold  seemed  to  be  less  bitter. 
Masterton,  in  his  relief,  glanced  smilingly  at 
his  companions  on  the  box,  but  the  driver's 
mouth  was  compressed  as  he  urged  his  team 
forward,  and  the  other  passenger  looked 


168  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

hardly  less  anxious.  They  were  now  upon 
the  level  terrace,  and  the  storm  apparently 
spending  its  fury  high  up  and  behind  them. 
But  in  spite  of  the  clearing  of  the  air,  he 
could  not  but  notice  that  it  was  singularly 
dark.  What  was  more  singular,  the  dark 
ness  seemed  to  have  risen  from  below,  and  to 
flow  in  upon  them  as  they  descended.  A 
curtain  of  profound  obscurity,  darker  even 
than  the  mountain  wall  at  their  side,  shut 
out  the  horizon  and  the  valley  below.  But 
for  the  temperature,  Masterton  would  have 
thought  a  thunderstorm  was  closing  in  upon 
them.  An  odd  feeling  of  uneasiness  crept 
over  him. 

A  few  fitful  gusts  now  came  from  the 
obscurity  ;  one  of  them  was  accompanied  by 
what  seemed  a  flight  of  small  startled  birds 
crossing  the  road  ahead  of  them.  A  second 
larger  and  more  sustained  flight  showed  his 
astonished  eyes  that  they  were  white,  and 
each  bird  an  enormous  flake  of  snow  !  For 
an  instant  the  air  was  filled  with  these  disks, 
shreds,  patches,  —  two  or  three  clinging 
together,  —  like  the  downfall  shaken  from  a 
tree,  striking  the  leather  roof  and  sides  with 
a  dull  thud,  spattering  the  road  into  which 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          169 

they  descended  with  large  rosettes  that 
melted  away  only  to  be  followed  by  hun 
dreds  more  that  stuck  and  stayed.  In  five 
minutes  the  ground  was  white  with  it,  the 
long  road  gleaming  out  ahead  in  the  dark 
ness  ;  the  roof  and  sides  of  the  wragon  were 
overlaid  with  it  as  with  a  coating  of  plaster 
of  Paris ;  the  harness  of  the  horses,  and 
even  the  reins,  stood  out  over  their  steam 
ing  backs  like  white  trappings.  In  five 
minutes  more  the  steaming  backs  them 
selves  were  blanketed  with  it;  the  arms 
and  legs  of  the  outside  passengers  pinioned 
to  the  seats  with  it,  and  the  arms  of  the 
driver  kept  free  only  by  incessant  motion. 
It  was  no  longer  snowing ;  it  was  "  snow 
balling  ;  "  it  was  an  avalanche  out  of  the 
slopes  of  the  sky.  The  exhausted  horses 
floundered  in  it;  the  clogging  wheels  dragged 
in  it ;  the  vehicle  at  last  plunged  into  a  bil 
low  of  it  —  and  stopped. 

The  bewildered  and  half  blinded  passen 
gers  hurried  out  into  the  road  to  assist  the 
driver  to  unship  the  wheels  and  fit  the  steel 
runners  in  their  axles.  But  it  was  too  late ! 
By  the  time  the  heavy  wagon  was  converted 
into  a  sledge,  it  was  deeply  imbedded  in  wet 


170  A   BELLE    OF    CANADA    CITY 

and  clinging  snow.  The  narrow,  long-han 
dled  shovels  borrowed  from  the  prospec 
tors'  kits  were  powerless  before  this  heavy, 
half  liquid  impediment.  At  last  the  driver, 
with  an  oath,  relinquished  the  attempt,  and, 
unhitching  his  horses,  collected  the  passen 
gers  and  led  them  forward  by  a  narrower 
and  more  sheltered  trail  toward  the  next 
station,  now  scarce  a  mile  away.  The  led 
horses  broke  a  path  before  them,  the  snow 
fell  less  heavily,  but  it  was  nearly  an  hour 
before  the  straggling  procession  reached  the 
house,  and  the  snow-coated  and  exhausted 
passengers  huddled  and  steamed  round  the 
red-hot  stove  in  the  bar-room.  The  driver 
had  vanished  with  his  team  into  the  shed ; 
Masterton's  fellow  passenger  on  the  box-seat, 
after  a  few  whispered  words  to  the  landlord, 
also  disappeared. 

"  I  see  you  've  got  Jake  Poole  with  you," 
said  one  of  the  bar-room  loungers  to  Mas- 
terton,  indicating  the  passenger  who  had 
just  left.  "  I  reckon  he 's  here  on  the  same 
fool  business." 

Masterton  looked  his  surprise  and  mysti 
fication. 

"Jake   Poole,    the    deputy   sheriff,"   re- 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY  171 

peated  the  other.  "  I  reckon  he 's  here  pre- 
tendin'  to  hunt  for  Montagu  Trixit  like  the 
San  Francisco  detectives  that  kem  up  yes 
terday." 

Masterton  with  difficulty  repressed  a  start. 
He  had  heard  of  Poole,  but  did  not  know 
him  by  sight.  "  I  don't  think  I  under 
stand,"  he  said  coolly. 

"  I  reckon  you  're  a  stranger  in  these 
parts,"  returned  the  lounger,  looking  at 
Masterton  curiously.  "  Ef  you  warn't,  ye  'd 
know  that  about  the  last  man  San  Francisco 
or  Canada  City  wanted  to  ketch  is  Monty 
Trixit !  He  knows  too  much  and  they  know 
it.  But  they  've  got  to  keep  up  a  show  chase 

—  a  kind  o'  cirkis-ridin'  —  up  here  to  sat 
isfy  the  stockholders.     You  bet  that  Jake 
Poole  hez  got  his  orders  —  they  might  kill 
him  to  shut  his  mouth,  ef  they  got  an  excuse 

—  and  he  made  a  fight  —  but  he  ain't  no 
such  fool.     No,  sir !     Why,  the  sickest  man 
you  ever  saw  was  that  director  that  kem  up 
here  with  a  detective  when  he  found  that 
Monty  had  n't  left  the  State." 

"  Then  he  is  hiding  about  here  ?  "  said 
Masterton,  with  assumed  calmness. 

The  man  paused,  lowered  his  voice,  and 


172  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

said  :  "  I  would  n't  swear  lie  was  n't  a  mile 
from  whar  we  're  talkin'  now.  Why,  they 
do  allow  that  he 's  taken  a  drink  at  this  very 
bar  since  the  news  came  !  —  and  that  thar  's 
a  hoss  kept  handy  in  the  stable  already  sad 
dled  just  to  tempt  him  ef  he  was  inclined  to 
scoot." 

44  That 's  only  a  bluff  to  start  him  goin' 
so  that  they  kin  shoot  him  in  his  tracks," 
said  a  bystander. 

"  That  ain't  no  good  ef  he  has,  as  they 
say  he  has,  papers  stowed  away  with  a  friend 
that  would  frighten  some  mighty  partickler 
men  out  o'  their  boots,"  returned  the  first 
speaker.  "  But  he  's  got  his  spies  too,  and 
thar  ain't  a  man  that  crosses  the  Divide  as 
ain't  spotted  by  them.  The  officers  brag 
about  havin'  put  a  cordon  around  the  dis 
trict,  and  yet  they  've  just  found  out  that 
he  managed  to  send  a  telegraphic  dispatch 
from  Black  Rock  station  right  under  their 
noses.  Why,  only  an  hour  or  so  arter  the 
detectives  and  the  news  arrived  here,  thar 
kem  along  one  o'  them  emigrant  teams  from 
Pike,  and  the  driver  said  that  a  smart-look- 
in'  chap  in  store-clothes  had  come  out  of 
an  old  prospector's  cabin  up  thar  on  the  rise 


A   BELLE    OF   C  AX  AD  A    CITY          173 

about  a  mile  away  and  asked  for  a  newspaper. 
And  the  description  the  teamster  gave  just 
fitted  Trixit  to  a  T.  Well,  the  information 
was  give  so  public  like  that  the  detectives 
had  to  make  a  rush  over  thar,  and  b'gosh ! 
although  thar  wasn't  a  soul  passed  them 
but  a  file  of  Chinese  coolies,  when  they  got 
thar  they  found  nothin\  —  nothin'  but  them 
Chinamen  cookin'  their  rice  by  the  road 
side." 

Masterton  smiled  carelessly,  and  walked 
to  the  window,  as  if  intent  upon  the  still  fall 
ing  snow.  But  he  had  at  once  grasped  the 
situation  that  seemed  now  almost  providen 
tial  for  his  inexperience  and  his  mission. 
The  man  he  was  seeking  was  within  his  pos 
sible  reach,  if  the  story  he  had  heard  was 
true.  The  detectives  would  not  be  likely  to 
interfere  with  his  plans,  for  he  was  the  only 
man  who  really  wished  to  meet  the  fugitive. 
The  presence  of  Poole  made  him  uneasy, 
though  he  had  never  met  the  man  before. 
Was  it  barely  possible  that  he  was  on  the 
same  mission  on  behalf  of  others  ?  If  what 
he  heard  was  true,  there  might  be  others 
equally  involved  with  the  absconding  man 
ager.  But  then  the  spies  —  how  could  the 


174  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY 

deputy  sheriff  elude  them,  and  how  could 
he? 

He  was  turning  impatiently  away  from 
the  window  when  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a 
straggling  file  of  Chinamen  breasting  the 
storm  on  their  way  up  the  hill.  A  sudden 
idea  seized  him.  Perhaps  they  were  the 
spies  in  question.  He  remembered  the  driv 
er's  story.  A  sudden  flash  of  intuition  made 
him  now  understand  the  singular  way  the 
file  of  coolies  which  they  met  had  diverted 
their  course  after  passing  the  wagon.  They 
had  recognized  the  deputy  on  the  box. 
Stay  !  —  there  was  another  Chinaman  in  the 
coach  ;  he  might  have  given  them  the  signal. 
He  glanced  hurriedly  around  the  room  for 
him  ;  he  was  gone.  Perhaps  he  had  already 
joined  the  file  he  had  just  seen.  His  only 
hope  was  to  follow  them  —  but  how  ?  and 
how  to  do  it  quietly  ?  The  afternoon  was 
waning ;  it  would  be  three  or  four  hours 
before  the  down  coach  would  arrive,  from 
which  the  driver  expected  assistance.  Now, 
if  ever,  was  his  opportunity. 

He  made  his  way  through  the  back  door, 
and  found  himself  among  the  straw  and  chips 
of  the  stable-yard  and  woodshed.  Still  un- 


A   BELLE   OF  CANADA   CITY          175 

certain  what  to  do,  he  mechanically  passed 
before  the  long  shed  which  served  as  tempo 
rary  stalls  for  the  steaming  wagon  horses. 
At  the  further  end,  to  his  surprise,  was  a 
tethered  mustang  ready  saddled  and  bridled 
—  the  opportune  horse  left  for  the  fugitive, 
according  to  the  lounger's  story.  Masterton 
cast  a  quick  glance  around  the  stable ;  it 
was  deserted  by  all  save  the  feeding  ani 
mals. 

He  was  new  to  adventures  of  this  kind, 
or  he  would  probably  have  weighed  the  pos 
sibilities  and  consequences.  He  was  ordi 
narily  a  thoughtful,  reflective  man,  but  like 
most  men  of  intellect,  he  was  also  imagina 
tive  and  superstitious,  and  this  crowning  ac 
cident  of  the  providential  situation  in  which 
he  found  himself  was  superior  to  his  logic. 
There  would  also  be  a  grim  irony  hi  his  tak 
ing  this  horse  for  such  a  purpose.  He  again 
looked  and  listened.  There  was  no  one 
within  sight  or  hearing.  He  untied  the 
rope  from  the  bit-ring,  leaped  into  the  sad 
dle,  and  emerged  cautiously  from  the  shed. 
The  wet  snow  muffled  the  sound  of  the 
horse's  hoofs.  Moving  round  to  the  rear  of 
the  stable  so  as  to  bring  it  between  himself 


176  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

and  the  station,  he  clapped  his  heels  into 
the  mustang's  flanks  and  dashed  into  the 
open. 

At  first  he  was  confused  and  bewildered 
by  the  half  hidden  boulders  and  snow- 
shrouded  bushes  that  beset  the  broken 
ground,  and  dazzled  by  the  still  driving 
storm.  But  he  knew  that  they  would  also 
divert  attention  from  his  flight,  and  beyond, 
he  could  now  see  a  white  slope  slowly  rising 
before  him,  near  whose  crest  a  few  dark 
spots  were  crawling  in  file,  like  Alpine 
climbers.  They  were  the  Chinamen  he  was 
seeking.  He  had  reasoned  that  when  they 
discovered  they  were  followed  they  would, 
in  the  absence  of  any  chance  of  signaling 
through  the  storm,  detach  one  of  their 
number  to  give  the  alarm.  Him  he  would 
follow.  He  felt  his  revolver  safe  on  his  hip  ; 
he  would  use  it  only  if  necessary  to  intimi 
date  the  spies. 

For  some  moments  his  ascent  through  the 
wet  snow  was  slow  and  difficult,  but  as  he 
advanced,  he  felt  a  change  of  temperature 
corresponding  to  that  he  had  experienced 
that  afternoon  on  the  wagon  coming  down. 
The  air  grew  keener,  the  snow  drier  and 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          177 

finer.  He  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  the 
moving  figures,  and  scanned  the  horizon  for 
some  indication  of  the  prospector's  deserted 
hut.  Suddenly  the  line  of  figures  he  was 
watching  seemed  to  be  broken,  and  then 
gathered  together  as  a  group.  Had  they 
detected  him  ?  Evidently  they  had,  for,  as 
he  had  expected,  one  of  them  had  been  de 
tached,  and  was  now  moving  at  right  angles 
from  the  party  towards  the  right.  With  a 
thrill  of  excitement  he  urged  his  horse  for 
ward  ;  the  group  was  far  to  the  left,  and  he 
was  nearing  the  solitary  figure.  But  to  his 
astonishment,  as  he  approached  the  top  of 
the  slope  he  now  observed  another  figure,  as 
far  to  the  left  of  the  group  as  he  was  to 
the  right,  and  that  figure  he  could  see,  even 
at  that  distance,  was  not  a  Chinaman.  He 
halted  for  a  better  observation ;  for  an  in 
stant  he  thought  it  might  be  the  fugitive 
himself,  but  as  quickly  he  recognized  it  was 
another  man  —  the  deputy.  It  was  he 
whom  the  Chinaman  had  discovered ;  it  was 
he  who  had  caused  the  diversion  and  the  dis 
patch  of  the  vedette  to  warn  the  fugitive. 
His  own  figure  had  evidently  not  yet  been 
detected.  His  heart  beat  high  with  hope ; 


178  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

he  again  dashed  forward  after  the  flying 
messenger,  who  was  undoubtedly  seeking 
the  prospector's  ruined  hut  and  —  Trixit. 

But  it  was  no  easy  matter.  At  this  ele 
vation  the  snow  had  formed  a  crust,  over 
which  the  single  Chinaman  —  a  lithe  young 
figure  —  skimmed  like  a  skater,  while  Mas- 
terton's  horse  crashed  through  it  into  unex 
pected  depths.  Again,  the  runner  could 
deviate  by  a  shorter  cut,  while  the  horse 
man  was  condemned  to  the  one  half  obliter 
ated  trail.  The  only  thing  in  Masterton's 
favor,  however,  was  that  he  was  steadily  in 
creasing  his  distance  from  the  group  and  the 
deputy  sheriff,  and  so  cutting  off  their  con 
nection  with  the  messenger.  But  the  trail 
grew  more  and  more  indistinct  as  it  neared 
the  summit,  until  at  last  it  utterly  vanished. 
Still  he  kept  up  his  speed  toward  the  active 
little  figure  —  which  now  seemed  to  be  that 
of  a  mere  boy  —  skimming  over  the  frozen 
snow.  Twice  a  stumble  and  flounder  of  the 
mustang  through  the  broken  crust  ought  to 
have  warned  him  of  his  recklessness,  but 
now  a  distinct  glimpse  of  a  low,  blackened 
shanty,  the  prospector's  ruined  hut,  toward 
which  the  messenger  was  making,  made  him 


A   BELLE   OF   CANADA    CITY          179 

forget  all  else.  The  distance  was  lessening 
between  them ;  he  could  see  the  long  pig 
tail  of  the  fugitive  standing  out  from  his 
bent  head,  when  suddenly  his  horse  plunged 
forward  and  downward.  In  an  awful  in 
stant  of  suspense  and  twilight,  such  as  he 
might  have  seen  in  a  dream,  he  felt  himself 
pitched  headlong  into  suffocating  depths,  fol 
lowed  by  a  shock,  the  crushing  weight  and 
steaming  flank  of  his  horse  across  his  shoul 
der,  utter  darkness,  and  —  merciful  uncon 
sciousness. 

How  long  he  lay  there  thus  he  never 
knew.  With  his  returning  consciousness 
came  this  strange  twilight  again,  —  the  twi 
light  of  a  dream.  He  was  sitting  in  the 
new  church  at  Canada  City,  as  he  had  sat 
the  first  Sunday  of  his  arrival  there,  gazing 
at  the  pretty  face  of  Cissy  Trixit  in  the 
pew  opposite  him,  and  wondering  who  she 
was.  Again  he  saw  the  startled,  awakened 
light  that  came  into  her  adorable  eyes, 
the  faint  blush  that  suffused  her  cheek  as 
she  met  his  inquiring  gaze,  and  the  conscious, 
half  conceited,  half  girlish  toss  of  her  little 
head  as  she  turned  her  eyes  away,  and  then 
a  file  of  brown  Chinamen,  muttering  some 


180  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

harsh,  uncouth  gibberish,  interposed  between 
them.  This  was  followed  by  what  seemed 
to  be  the  crashing  in  of  the  church  roof,  a 
stifling  heat  succeeded  by  a  long,  deadly 
chill.  But  he  knew  that  this  last  was  all  a 
dream,  and  he  tried  to  struggle  to  his  feet 
to  see  Cissy's  face  again,  —  a  reality  that  he 
felt  would  take  him  out  of  this  horrible 
trance,  —  and  he  called  to  her  across  the  pew 
and  heard  her  sweet  voice  again  in  answer, 
and  then  a  wave  of  unconsciousness  once 
more  submerged  him. 

He  came  back  to  life  with  a  sharp  tin 
gling  of  his  whole  frame  as  if  pierced  with  a 
thousand  needles.  He  knew  he  was  being 
rubbed,  and  in  his  attempts  to  throw  his 
torturers  aside,  he  saw  faintly  by  the  light 
of  a  flickering  fire  that  they  were  China 
men,  and  he  was  lying  on  the  floor  of  a  rude 
hut.  With  his  first  movements  they  ceased, 
and,  wrapping  him  like  a  mummy  in  warm 
blankets,  dragged  him  out  of  the  heap  of 
loose  snow  with  which  they  had  been  rub 
bing  him,  toward  the  fire  that  glowed  upon 
the  large  adobe  hearth.  The  stinging  pain 
was  succeeded  by  a  warm  glow ;  a  pleasant 
languor,  which  made  even  thought  a  burden, 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          181 

came  over  him,  and  yet  his  perceptions  were 
keenly  alive  to  his  surroundings.  He  heard 
the  Chinamen  mutter  something  and  then 
depart,  leaving  him  alone.  But  presently 
he  was  aware  of  another  figure  that  had 
entered,  and  was  now  sitting  with  its  back 
to  him  at  a  rude  table,  roughly  extemporized 
from  a  packing-box,  apparently  engaged  in 
writing.  It  was  a  small  Chinaman,  evidently 
the  one  he  had  chased !  The  events  of  the 
past  few  hours  —  his  mission,  his  intentions, 
and  every  incident  of  the  pursuit  —  flashed 
back  upon  him.  Where  was  he?  What 
was  he  doing  here?  Had  Trixit  escaped 
him? 

In  his  exhausted  state  he  was  unable  to 
formulate  a  question  which  even  then  he 
doubted  if  the  Chinaman  could  understand. 
So  he  simply  watched  him  lazily,  and  with  a 
certain  kind  of  fascination,  until  he  should 
finish  his  writing  and  turn  round.  His  long 
pigtail,  which  seemed  ridiculously  dispropor 
tionate  to  his  size,  —  the  pigtail  which  he 
remembered  had  streamed  into  the  air  in  his 
flight,  —  had  partly  escaped  from  the  dish- 
covered  hat  under  which  it  had  been  coiled. 
But  what  was  singular,  it  was  not  the  wiry 


182  A    BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

black  pigtail  of  his  Mongolian  fellows,  but 
soft  and  silky,  and  as  the  firelight  played 
upon  it,  it  seemed  of  a  shining  chestnut 
brown !  It  was  like  —  like  —  he  stopped 
—  was  he  dreaming  again  ?  A  long  sigh 
escaped  him. 

The  figure  instantly  turned.  He  started. 
It  was  Cissy  Trixit !  There  was  no  mistak 
ing  that  charming,  sensitive  face,  glowing 
with  health  and  excitement,  albeit  showing 
here  and  there  the  mark  of  the  pigment  with 
which  it  had  been  stained,  now  hurriedly 
washed  off.  A  little  of  it  had  run  into  the 
corners  of  her  eyelids,  and  enhanced  the 
brilliancy  of  her  eyes. 

He  found  his  tongue  with  an  effort. 
"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  he  asked  with 
a  faint  voice,  and  a  fainter  attempt  to  smile. 

u  That 's  what  I  might  ask  about  you,"  she 
said  pertly,  but  with  a  slight  touch  of  scorn ; 
"  but  I  guess  I  know  as  well  as  I  do  about 
the  others.  I  came  here  to  see  my  father," 
she  added  defiantly. 

"  And  you  are  the  —  the  —  one  —  I 
chased?" 

"  Yes ;  and  I  'd  have  outrun  you  easily, 
even  with  your  horse  to  help  you,"  she  said 


A   BELLE    OF    CANADA    CITY          183 

proudly,  "  only  I  turned  back  when  you 
went  down  into  that  prospector's  hole  with 
your  horse  and  his  broken  neck  atop  of  you." 

He  groaned  slightly,  but  more  from  shame 
than  pain.  The  young  girl  took  up  a  glass 
of  whiskey  ready  on  the  table  and  brought  it 
to  him.  "  Take  that ;  it  will  fetch  you  all 
right  in  a  moment.  Popper  says  no  bones 
are  broken." 

Masterton  waived  the  proffered  glass. 
"  Your  father  —  is  he  here  ? "  he  asked 
hurriedly,  recalling  his  mission. 

%"  Not  now ;  he  's  gone  to  the  station  —  to 
—  fetch  —  my  clothes,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh. 

"  To  the  station  ?  "  repeated  Masterton, 
bewildered. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  to  the  station.  Of 
course  you  don't  know  the  news,"  she  added, 
with  an  air  of  girlish  importance.  "  They  Ve 
stopped  all  proceedings  against  him,  and  he 's 
as  free  as  you  are." 

Masterton  tried  to  rise,  but  another  groan 
escaped  him.  He  was  really  in  pain.  Cissy's 
bright  eyes  softened.  She  knelt  beside  him, 
her  soft  breath  fanning  his  hair,  and  lifted 
him  gently  to  a  sitting  position. 


184  A   BELLE   OF   CANADA   CITY 

"  Oh,  I  've  done  it  before,"  she  laughed, 
as  she  read  his  wonder,  with  his  gratitude, 
in  his  eyes.  "  The  horse  was  already  stiff, 
and  you  were  nearly  so,  by  the  time  I  came 
up  to  you  and  got  "  —  she  laughed  again  — 
"  the  other  Chinaman  to  help  me  pull  you 
out  of  that  hole." 

"  I  know  I  owe  you  my  life,"  he  said,  his 
face  flushing. 

"  It  was  lucky  I  was  there,"  she  returned 
naively ;  "  perhaps  lucky  you  were  chasing 
me." 

"  I  'm  afraid  that  of  the  many  who  would 
run  after  you  I  should  be  the  least  lucky," 
he  said,  with  an  attempt  to  laugh  that  did 
not,  however,  conceal  his  mortification ;  "  but 
I  assure  you  that  I  only  wished  to  have  an 
interview  with  your  father,  —  a  business  in 
terview,  perhaps  as  much  in  his  interest  as 
my  own." 

The  old  look  of  audacity  came  back  to 
her  face.  "  I  guess  that 's  what  they  all 
came  here  for,  except  one,  but  it  did  n't 
keep  them  from  believing  and  saying  he  was 
a  thief  behind  his  back.  Yet  they  all 
wanted  his  —  confidence,"  she  added  bitterly. 

Masterton  felt  that  his  burning   cheeks 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          185 

were  confessing:  the  truth  of  this.     "You 

O 

excepted  one,"  he  said  hesitatingly. 

«  Yes  —  the  deputy  sheriff.  He  came  to 
help  me." 

"You!" 

"Yes,  me/"  A  coquettish  little  toss  of 
her  head  added  to  his  confusion.  "  He 
threw  up  his  job  just  to  follow  me,  without 
my  knowing  it,  to  see  that  I  did  n't  come  to 
any  harm.  He  saw  me  only  once,  too,  at 
the  house  when  he  came  to  take  possession. 
He  said  he  thought  I  was  4  clear  grit '  to 
risk  everything  to  find  father,  and  he  said 
he  saw  it  in  me  when  he  was  there  ;  that 's 
how  he  guessed  where  I  was  gone  when  I 
ran  away,  and  followed  me." 

"  He  was  as  right  as  he  was  lucky,"  said 
Masterton  gravely.  "  But  how  did  you  get 
here?" 

She  slipped  down  on  the  floor  beside  him 
with  an  unconscious  movement  that  her 
masculine  garments  only  made  the  more 
quaintly  girlish,  and,  clasping  her  knee  with 
both  hands,  looked  at  the  fire  as  she  rocked 
herself  slightly  backward  and  forward  as 
she  spoke. 

"  It  will  shock  a  proper  man  like  you,  I 


186  A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

know,"  she  began  demurely,  "but  I  came 
alone,  with  only  a  Chinaman  to  guide  me. 
I  got  these  clothes  from  our  laundryman,  so 
that  I  should  n't  attract  attention.  I  would 
have  got  a  Chinese  lady's  dress,  but  I 
could  n't  walk  in  their  shoes,"  —  she  looked 
down  at  her  little  feet  encased  in  wooden 
sandals,  —  "  and  I  had  a  long  way  to  walk. 
But  even  if  I  didn't  look  quite  right  to 
Chinamen,  no  white  man  was  able  to  detect 
the  difference.  You  passed  me  twice  in  the 
stage,  and  you  did  n't  know  me.  I  traveled 
night  and  day,  most  of  the  time  walking, 
and  being  passed  along  from  one  Chinaman 
to  another,  or,  when  we  were  alone,  being 
slung  on  a  pole  between  two  coolies  like  a 
bale  of  goods.  I  ate  what  they  could  give 
me,  for  I  dared  not  go  into  a  shop  or  a 
restaurant ;  I  could  n't  shut  my  eyes  in  their 
dens,  so  I  stayed  awake  all  night.  Yet  I 
got  ahead  of  you  and  the  sheriff,  —  though 
I  didn't  know  at  the  time  what  you  were 
after,"  she  added  presently. 

He  was  overcome  with  wondering  admira 
tion  of  her  courage,  and  of  self-reproach  at 
his  own  short-sightedness.  This  was  the 
girl  he  had  looked  upon  as  a  spoiled  village 


A    BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          187 

beauty,  satisfied  with  her  small  triumphs 
and  provincial  elevation,  and  vacant  of  all 
other  purpose.  Here  was  she  —  the  all-un 
conscious  heroine  —  and  he  her  critic  help 
less  at  her  feet !  It  was  not  a  cheerful 
reflection,  and  yet  he  took  a  certain  delight 
in  his  expiation.  Perhaps  he  had  half 
believed  in  her  without  knowing  it.  What 
could  he  do  or  say?  I  regret  to  say  he 
dodged  the  question  meanly. 

"  And  you  think  your  disguise  escaped 
detection  ? "  he  said,  looking  markedly  at 
her  escaped  braid  of  hair. 

She  followed  his  eyes  rather  than  his 
words,  half  pettishly  caught  up  the  loosened 
braid,  swiftly  coiled  it  around  the  top  of  her 
head,  and,  clapping  the  weather-beaten  and 
battered  conical  hat  back  again  upon  it, 
defiantly  said :  "  Yes  !  Everybody  is  n't  as 
critical  as  you  are,  and  even  you  would  n't 
be  —  of  a  Chinaman  !  " 

He  had  never  seen  her  except  when  she 
was  arrayed  with  the  full  intention  to  affect 
the  beholders  and  perfectly  conscious  of  her 
attractions;  he  was  utterly  unprepared  for 
this  complete  ignoring  of  adornment  now, 
albeit  he  was  for  the  first  time  aware  how 


188  A    BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

her  real  prettiness  made  it  unnecessary. 
She  looked  fully  as  charming  in  this  gro 
tesque  head-covering  as  she  had  in  that 
paragon  of  fashion,  the  new  hat,  which  had 
excited  his  tolerant  amusement. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  a  very  poor  critic,"  he 
said  bluntly.  "  I  never  conceived  that  this 
sort  of  thing  was  at  all  to  your  taste." 

"  I  came  to  see  my  father  because  I  wanted 
to,"  she  said,  with  equal  bluntness. 

"  And  I  came  to  see  him  though  I  did  n't 
want  to,"  he  said,  with  a  cynical  laugh. 

She  turned,  and  fixed  her  brown  eyes 
inquiringly  upon  him. 

"  Why  did  you  come,  then  ?  " 

"  I  was  ordered  by  my  directors." 

"  Then  you  did  not  believe  he  was  a 
thief  ?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes  softening. 

u  It  would  ill  become  me  to  accuse  your 
father  —  or  my  directors,"  he  answered 
diplomatically. 

She  was  quick  enough  to  detect  the  sug 
gestion  of  moral  superiority  in  his  tone,  but 
woman  enough  to  forgive  it.  "You're  no 
friend  of  Windibrook,"  she  said,  "  I  know." 

"  I  am  not,"  he  replied  frankly. 

"  If  you  would   like  to  see  my  popper, 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          189 

I  can  manage  it,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 
"  He  '11  do  anything  for  me,"  she  added,  with 
a  touch  of  her  old  pride. 

"  Who  could  blame  him  ?  "  returned  Mas- 
terton  gravely.  "  But  if  he  is  a  free  man 
now,  and  able  to  go  where  he  likes,  and  to 
see  whom  he  likes,  he  may  not  care  to  give 
an  audience  to  a  mere  messenger." 

"  You  wait  and  let  me  see  him  first,"  said 
the  girl  quickly.  Then,  as  the  sound  of 
sleigh-bells  came  from  the  road  outside,  she 
added,  "  Here  he  is.  I  '11  get  your  clothes  ; 
they  are  out  here  drying  by  the  fire  in  the 
shed."  She  disappeared  through  a  back 
door,  and  returned  presently  bearing  his 
dried  garments.  "  Dress  yourself  while  I 
take  popper  into  the  shed,"  she  said  quickly, 
and  ran  out  into  the  road. 

Masterton  dressed  himself  with  difficulty. 
Although  circulation  was  now  restored,  and 
he  felt  a  glow  through  his  warmed  clothes, 
he  had  been  sorely  bruised  and  shaken  by  his 
fall.  He  had  scarcely  finished  dressing  when 
Montagu  Trixit  entered  from  the  shed. 
Masterton  looked  at  him  with  a  new  interest 
and  a  respect  he  had  never  felt  before. 
There  certainly  was  little  of  the  daughter  in 


190  A  BELLE   OF  CANADA   CITY 

this  keen-faced,  resolute-lipped  man,  though 
his  brown  eyes,  like  hers,  had  the  same  frank, 
steadfast  audacity.  With  a  business  brevity 
that  was  hurried  but  not  unkindly,  he  hoped 
Masterton  had  fully  recovered. 

"  Thanks  to  your  daughter,  I  'm  all  right 
now,"  said  Masterton.  "  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  I  believe  I  owe  my  life  to  her  energy 
and  courage,  for  I  think  you  have  experi 
enced  what  she  can  do  in  that  way.  But 
you  have  had  the  advantage  of  those  who 
have  only  enjoyed  her  social  acquaintance  in 
knowing  all  the  time  what  she  was  capable 
of,"  he  added  significantly. 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,"  said  Trixit  briefly, 
yet  with  a  slight  rise  in  color  on  his  dark, 
sallow  cheek,  and  a  sudden  wavering  of  his 
steadfast  eyes.  "  She  tells  me  you  have  a 
message  from  your  directors.  I  think  I 
know  what  it  is,  but  we  won't  discuss  it  now. 
As  I  am  going  directly  to  Sacramento,  I  shall 
not  see  them,  but  I  will  give  you  an  answer 
to  take  to  them  when  we  reach  the  station. 
I  am  going  to  give  you  a  lift  there  when 
my  daughter  is  ready.  And  here  she  is." 

It  was  the  old  Cissy  that  stepped  into  the 
room,  dressed  as  she  was  when  she  left 


A   BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY          191 

her  father's  house  two  days  before.  Oddly 
enough,  he  fancied  that  something  of  her  old 
conscious  manner  had  returned  with  her 
clothes,  and  as  he  stepped  with  her  into  the 
back  seat  of  the  covered  sleigh  in  waiting, 
he  could  not  help  saying,  "  I  really  think  I 
understand  you  better  in  your  other  clothes." 

A  slight  blush  mounted  to  Cissy's  cheek, 
but  her  eyes  were  still  audacious.  "  All  the 
same,  I  don't  think  you  'd  like  to  walk  down 
Main  Street  with  me  in  that  rig,  although 
you  once  thought  nothing  of  taking  me  over 
your  old  mill  in  your  blue  blouse  and  over 
alls."  And  having  apparently  greatly  re 
lieved  her  proud  little  heart  by  this  enigmatic 
statement,  she  grew  so  chatty  and  confiden 
tial  that  the  young  man  was  satisfied  that  he 
had  been  in  love  with  her  from  the  first ! 

When  they  reached  the  station,  Trixit 
drew  him  aside.  Taking  an  envelope  marked 
u  Private  Contracts "  from  his  pocket,  he 
opened  it  and  displayed  some  papers.  "  These 
are  the  securities.  Tell  your  directors  that 
you  have  seen  them  safe  in  my  hands,  and 
that  no  one  else  has  seen  them.  Tell  them 
that  if  they  will  send  me  their  renewed  notes, 
dated  from  to-day,  to  Sacramento  within  the 


192  A  BELLE    OF   CANADA    CITY 

next  three  days,  I  will  return  the  securities. 
That  is  my  message." 

The  young  man  bowed.  But  before  the 
coach  started  he  managed  to  draw  near  to 
Cissy.  "  You  are  not  returning  to  Canada 
City,"  he  said. 

The  young  girl  made  a  gesture  of  indigna 
tion.  "  No  !  I  am  never  going  there  again. 
I  go  with  my  popper  to  Sacramento." 

44  Then  I  suppose  I  must  say  4  good-by.' " 

The  girl  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  u  Pop 
per  says  you  are  coming  to  Sacramento  in 
three  days ! " 

"Ami?" 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly.  She  returned 
his  glance  audaciously,  steadfastly. 

44  You  are,"  she  said,  in  her  low  but  distinct 
voice. 

44 1  wiU." 

And  he  did. 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT  THE 
FONDA 

PART  I 

"  WELL  !  "  said  the  editor  of  the  "  Moun 
tain  Clarion,"  looking  up  impatiently  from 
his  copy.  "  What 's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

The  intruder  in  his  sanctum  was  his  fore 
man.  He  was  also  acting  as  pressman,  as 
might  be  seen  from  his  shirt-sleeves  spattered 
with  ink,  rolled  up  over  the  arm  that  had 
just  been  working  "  the  Archiniedian  lever 
that  moves  the  world,"  which  was  the  edit 
or's  favorite  allusion  to  the  hand-press  that 
strict  economy  obliged  the  "  Clarion  "  to  use. 
His  braces,  slipped  from  his  shoulders  dur 
ing  his  work,  were  looped  negligently  on 
either  side,  their  functions  being  replaced 
by  one  hand,  which  occasionally  hitched  up 
his  trousers  to  a  securer  position.  A  pair 
of  down-at-heel  slippers  —  dear  to  the  coun 
try  printer  —  completed  his  negligee. 

But  the  editor  knew  that  the  ink-spattered 


194   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

arm  was  sinewy  and  ready,  that  a  stout  and 
loyal  heart  beat  under  the  soiled  shirt,  and 
that  the  slipshod  slippers  did  not  prevent 
its  owner's  foot  from  being  "  put  down " 
very  firmly  on  occasion.  He  accordingly 
met  the  shrewd,  good-humored  blue  eyes 
of  his  faithful  henchman  with  an  interrogat 
ing  smile. 

"  I  won't  keep  you  long,"  said  the  fore 
man,  glancing  at  the  editor's  copy  with  his 
habitual  half  humorous  toleration  of  that 
work,  it  being  his  general  conviction  that 
news  and  advertisements  were  the  only 
valuable  features  of  a  newspaper ;  "  I  only 
wanted  to  talk  to  you  a  minute  about 
makin'  suthin  more  o'  this  yer  accident  to 
Colonel  Starbottle." 

"  Well,  we  've  a  full  report  of  it  in, 
have  n't  we  ?  "  said  the  editor  wonderingly. 
"  I  have  even  made  an  editorial  para,  about 
the  frequency  of  these  accidents,  and  called 
attention  to  the  danger  of  riding  those  half 
broken  Spanish  mustangs." 

"  Yes,  ye  did  that,"  said  the  foreman  tol 
erantly;  "but  ye  see,  thar's  some  folks 
around  here  that  allow  it  warn't  no  acci 
dent.  There  's  a  heap  of  them  believe  that 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      195 

no  runaway  boss  ever  mauled  the  colonel  ez 
he  got  mauled." 

"  But  I  heard  it  from  the  colonel's  own 
lips,"  said  the  editor,  "  and  he  surely  ought 
to  know." 

"  He  mout  know  and  he  mout  n't,  and  if 
he  did  know,  he  would  n't  tell,"  said  the 
foreman  musingly,  rubbing  his  chin  with 
the  cleaner  side  of  his  arm.  "Ye  didn't 
see  him  when  he  was  picked  up,  did  ye  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  editor.  "  Only  after  the 
doctor  had  attended  him.  Why  ?  " 

"  Jake  Parnilee,  ez  picked  him  up  outer 
the  ditch,  says  that  he  was  half  choked,  and 
his  black  silk  neck-handkercher  was  pulled 
tight  around  his  throat.  There  was  a  mark 
on  his  nose  ez  ef  some  one  had  tried  to  gouge 
out  his  eye,  and  his  left  ear  was  chawed  ez 
ef  he  'd  bin  down  in  a  reg'lar  rough-and-tum 
ble  clinch." 

"He  told  me  his  horse  bolted,  buck- 
jumped,  threw  him,  and  he  lost  conscious 
ness,"  said  the  editor  positively.  "  He  had 
no  reason  for  lying,  and  a  man  like  Star- 
bottle,  who  carries  a  Derringer  and  is  a  dead 
shot,  would  have  left  his  mark  on  somebody 
if  he  'd  been  attacked." 


196   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

"  That 's  what  the  boys  say  is  just  the 
reason  why  he  lied.  He  was  took  suddent, 
don't  ye  see,  —  he'd  no  show  —  and  don't 
like  to  confess  it.  See  ?  A  man  like  him 
ain't  goin'  to  advertise  that  he  kin  be 
tackled  and  left  senseless  and  no  one  else 
got  hurt  by  it!  His  political  influence 
would  be  ruined  here  !  " 

The  editor  was  momentarily  staggered  at 
this  large  truth. 

"  Nonsense ! "  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Who  would  attack  Colonel  Starbottle  in 
that  fashion  ?  He  might  have  been  shot  on 
sight  by  some  political  enemy  with  whom  he 
had  quarreled  —  but  not  beaten" 

"  S'pose  it  warn't  no  political  enemy  ?  " 
said  the  foreman  doggedly. 

"  Then  who  else  could  it  be  ?  "  demanded 
the  editor  impatiently. 

"  That 's  jest  for  the  press  to  find  out  and 
expose,"  returned  the  foreman,  with  a  sig 
nificant  glance  at  the  editor's  desk.  "  I 
reckon  that 's  whar  the  '  Clarion  '  ought  to 
come  in." 

"  In  a  matter  of  this  kind,"  said  the  ed 
itor  promptly,  "the  paper  has  no  business 
to  interfere  with  a  man's  statement.  The 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      197 

colonel  has  a  perfect  right  to  his  own  secret 

—  if  there  is  one,  which  I  very  much  doubt. 
But,"  he  added,  in  laughing  recognition  of 
the  half  reproachful,  half  humorous  discon 
tent  on  the  foreman's  face,  "  what  dreadful 
theory  have  you  and  the  boys  got  about  it 

—  and  what  do  you  expect  to  expose  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  foreman  very  seriously, 
"  it 's  jest  this :  You  see,  the  colonel  is 
mighty  sweet  on  that  Spanish  woman  Ra- 
mierez  up  on  the  hill  yonder.  It  was  her 
mustang  he  was  ridin'  when  the  row  hap 
pened  near  her  house." 

44  Well?"  said  the  editor,  with  disconcert 
ing  placidity. 

44  Well,"  —  hesitated  the  foreman,  44  you 
see,  they  're  a  bad  lot,  those  Greasers,  espe 
cially  the  Ramierez,  her  husband." 

The  editor  knew  that  the  foreman  was 
only  echoing  the  provincial  prejudice  against 
this  race,  which  he  himself  had  always  com 
bated.  Ramierez  kept  a  fonda  or  hostelry 
on  a  small  estate,  —  the  last  of  many  leagues 
formerly  owned  by  the  Spanish  grantee,  his 
landlord,  —  and  had  a  wife  of  some  small 
coquetries  and  redundant  charms.  Gam 
bling  took  place  at  the  fonda,  and  it  was 


198   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

said  the  common  prejudice  against  the  Mex 
ican  did  not,  however,  prevent  the  American 
from  trying  to  win  his  money. 

"Then  you  think  Ramierez  was  jealous 
of  the  colonel?  But  in  that  case  he  would 
have  knifed  him,  —  Spanish  fashion,  —  and 
not  without  a  struggle." 

"  There  's  more  ways  they  have  o'  killin' 
a  man  than  that ;  he  might  hev  been  dragged 
off  his  horse  by  a  lasso  and  choked,"  said 
the  foreman  darkly. 

The  editor  had  heard  of  this  vaquero 
method  of  putting  an  enemy  hors  de  com 
bat;  but  it  was  a  clumsy  performance  for 
the  public  road,  and  the  brutality  of  its 
manner  would  have  justified  the  colonel  in 
exposing  it. 

The  foreman  saw  the  incredulity  expressed 
in  his  face,  and  said  somewhat  aggressively, 
"  Of  course  I  know  ye  don't  take  no  stock 
in  what 's  said  agin  the  Greasers,  and  that 's 
what  the  boys  know,  and  what  they  said,  and 
that 's  the  reason  why  I  thought  I  oughter 
tell  ye,  so  that  ye  might  n't  seem  to  be  al 
ways  favorin'  'em." 

The  editor's  face  darkened  slightly,  but 
lie  kept  his  temper  and  his  good  humor. 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      199 

"  So  that  to  prove  that  the  '  Clarion '  is  un 
biased  where  the  Mexicans  are  concerned,  I 
ought  to  make  it  their  only  accuser,  and 
cast  a  doubt  on  the  American's  veracity  ?  " 
he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  said  the  foreman, 
reddening.  "  Only  I  thought  ye  might  — 
as  ye  understand  these  folks'  ways — ye 
might  be  able  to  get  at  them  easy,  and 
mebbe  make  some  copy  outer  the  blamed 
thing.  It  would  just  make  a  stir  here,  and 
be  a  big  boom  for  the  i  Clarion.' >: 

•*'  I  Ve  no  doubt  it  would,"  said  the  editor 
dryly.  "  However,  I  '11  make  some  in 
quiries;  but  you  might  as  well  let  'the 
boys  '  know  that  the  i  Clarion  '  will  not  pub 
lish  the  colonel's  secret  without  his  permis 
sion.  Meanwhile,"  he  continued,  smiling, 
"  if  you  are  very  anxious  to  add  the  func 
tions  of  a  reporter  to  your  other  duties  and 
bring  me  any  discoveries  you  may  make, 
I  '11  —  look  over  your  copy." 

He  good  humoredly  nodded,  and  took  up 
his  pen  again,  —  a  hint  at  which  the  em 
barrassed  foreman,  under  cover  of  hitching 
up  his  trousers,  awkwardly  and  reluctantly 
withdrew. 


200   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

It  was  with  some  natural  youthful  curi 
osity,  but  no  lack  of  loyalty  to  Colonel  Star- 
bottle,  that  the  editor  that  evening  sought 
this  "war-horse  of  the  Democracy,"  as  he 
was  familiarly  known,  in  his  invalid  chamber 
at  the  Palmetto  Hotel.  He  found  the  hero 
with  a  bandaged  ear  and  —  perhaps  it  was 
fancy  suggested  by  the  story  of  the  choking 
—  cheeks  more  than  usually  suffused  and 
apoplectic.  Nevertheless,  he  was  seated  by 
the  table  with  a  mint  julep  before  him,  and 
welcomed  the  editor  by  instantly  ordering 
another. 

The  editor  was  glad  to  find  him  so  much 
better. 

"  Gad,  sir,  no  bones  broken,  but  a  good 
deal  of  'possum  scratching  about  the  head 
for  such  a  little  throw  like  that.  I  must 
have  slid  a  yard  or  two  on  my  left  ear  be 
fore  I  brought  up." 

"You  were  unconscious  from  the  fall,  I 
believe." 

"  Only  for  an  instant,  sir  —  a  single  in 
stant!  I  recovered  myself  with  the  assist 
ance  of  a  No'the'n  gentleman  —  a  Mr.  Parm- 
lee  —  who  was  passing." 

"Then  you  think  your  injuries  were 
entirely  due  to  your  fall  ?  " 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      201 

The  colonel  paused  with  the  mint  julep 
halfway  to  his  lips,  and  set  it  down.  "  Sir !  *' 
he  ejaculated,  with  astounded  indignation. 

"  You  say  you  were  unconscious,"  re 
turned  the  editor  lightly,  "  and  some  of 
your  friends  think  the  injuries  inconsistent 
with  what  you  believe  to  be  the  cause.  They 
are  concerned  lest  you  were  unknowingly  the 
victim  of  some  foul  play." 

"  Unknowingly  !  Sir !  Do  you  take  me 
for  a  chuckle-headed  niggah,  that  I  don't 
know  when  I'm  thrown  from  a  buck- jump 
ing  mustang  ?  or  do  they  think  I  'ni  a  Chi 
naman  to  be  hustled  and  beaten  by  a  gang 
of  bullies  ?  Do  they  know,  sir,  that  the  ac 
count  I  have  given  I  am  responsible  for,  sir  ? 
—  personally  responsible  ?  " 

There  was  no  doubt  to  the  editor  that  the 
colonel  was  perfectly  serious,  and  that  the 
indignation  arose  from  no  guilty  conscious 
ness  of  a  secret.  A  man  as  peppery  as  the 
colonel  would  have  been  equally  alert  in 
defense. 

"  They  feared  that  you  might  have  been 
ill  used  b}r  some  evilly  disposed  person  during 
your  unconsciousness,"  explained  the  editor 
diplomatically;  "but  as  you  say  that  was 


202   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

only  for  a  moment,  and  that  you  were  aware 
of  everything  that  happened  "  —  He  paused. 

"Perfectly,  sir!  Perfectly!  As  plain 
as  I  see  this  julep  before  me.  I  had  just 
left  the  Ramierez  rancho.  The  senora,  —  a 
devilish  pretty  woman,  sir,  —  after  a  little 
playful  badinage,  had  offered  to  lend  me  her 
daughter's  mustang  if  I  could  ride  it  home. 
You  know  what  it  is,  Mr.  Grey,"  he  said 
gallantly.  "  I  'm  an  older  man  than  you,  sir, 
but  a  challenge  from  a  d — d  fascinating 
creature,  I  trust,  sir,  I  am  not  yet  old  enough 
to  decline.  Gad,  sir,  I  mounted  the  brute. 
I  've  ridden  Morgan  stock  and  Blue  Grass 
thoroughbreds  bareback,  sir,  but  I  've  never 
thrown  my  leg  over  such  a  blanked  Chi 
nese  cracker  before.  After  he  bolted  I 
held  my  own  fairly,  but  he  buck- jumped 
before  I  could  lock  my  spurs  under  him, 
and  the  second  jump  landed  me !  " 

"  How  far  from  the  Eamierez  fonda  were 
you  when  you  were  thrown  ?  " 

"  A  matter  of  four  or  five  hundred  yards, 
sir." 

"  Then  your  accident  might  have  been 
seen  from  the  fonda  ?  " 

"  Scarcely,  sir.     For  in  that  case,  I  may 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE   FONDA      203 

say,  without  vanity,  that  —  er  —  the  —  er 
senora  would  have  come  to  my  assistance." 

« But  not  her  husband? " 

The  old-fashioned  shirt -frill  which  the 
colonel  habitually  wore  grew  erectile  with  a 
swelling  indignation,  possibly  half  assumed 
to  conceal  a  certain  conscious  satisfaction 
beneath.  "  Mr.  Grey,"  he  said,  with  pained 
severity,  "  as  a  personal  friend  of  mine,  and 
a  representative  of  the  press,  —  a  power 
which  I  respect,  —  I  overlook  a  disparaging 
reflection  upon  a  lady,  which  I  can  only  at 
tribute  to  the  levity  of  youth  and  thought 
lessness.  At  the  same  time,  sir,"  he  added, 
with  illogical  sequence,  "  if  Eamierez  felt 
aggrieved  at  my  attentions,  he  knew  where 
I  could  be  found,  sir,  and  that  it  was  not  my 
habit  to  decline  giving  gentlemen  —  of  any 
nationality  —  satisfaction  —  sir  !  —  personal 
satisfaction." 

He  paused,  and  then  added,  with  a  singu 
lar  blending  of  anxiety  and  a  certain  natural 
dignity,  "I  trust,  sir,  that  nothing  of  this 
—  er  —  kind  will  appear  in  your  paper." 

"  It  was  to  keep  it  out  by  learning  the 
truth  from  you,  my  dear  colonel,"  said  the 
editor  lightly,  "  that  I  called  to-day.  Why, 


204   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

it  was  even  suggested,"  he  added,  with  a 
laugh,  "that  you  were  half  strangled  by  a 
lasso." 

To  his  surprise  the  colonel  did  not  join  in 
the  laugh,  but  brought  his  hand  to  his  loose 
cravat  with  an  uneasy  gesture  and  a  some 
what  disturbed  face. 

"  I  admit,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  forced 
smile,  "that  I  experienced  a  certain  sensa 
tion  of  choking,  and  I  may  have  mentioned 
it  to  Mr.  Parmlee  ;  but  it  was  due,  I  believe, 
sir,  to  my  cravat,  which  I  always  wear  loosely, 
as  you  perceive,  becoming  twisted  in  my  fall, 
and  in  rolling  over." 

He  extended  his  fat  white  hand  to  the 
editor,  who  shook  it  cordially,  and  then  with 
drew.  Nevertheless,  although  perfectly  satis 
fied  with  his  mission,  and  firmly  resolved  to 
prevent  any  further  discussion  on  the  sub 
ject,  Mr.  Grey's  curiosity  was  not  wholly 
appeased.  What  were  the  relations  of  the 
colonel  with  the  Eamierez  family?  From 
what  he  himself  had  said,  the  theory  of  the 
foreman  as  to  the  motives  of  the  attack 
might  have  been  possible,  and  the  assault 
itself  committed  while  the  colonel  was  un 
conscious. 


WHAT  HAPPENED  AT   THE  FONDA      205 

Mr.  Grey,  however,  kept  this  to  himself, 
briefly  told  his  foreman  that  he  found  no  rea 
son  to  add  to  the  account  already  in  type, 
and  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind. 
The  colonel  left  the  town  the  next  day. 

One  morning  a  week  afterward,  the  fore 
man  entered  the  sanctum  cautiously,  and, 
closing  the  door  of  the  composing-room  be 
hind  him,  stood  for  a  moment  before  the 
editor  with  a  singular  combination  of  irreso 
lution,  shamefacedness,  and  humorous  dis 
comfiture  in  his  face. 

Answering  the  editor's  look  of  inquiry,  he 
began  slowly,  "  Mebbe  ye  remember  when  we 
was  talkin'  last  week  o'  Colonel  Starbottle's 
accident,  I  sorter  allowed  that  he  knew  all 
the  time  why  he  was  attacked  that  way,  only 
he  would  n't  tell." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  you  were  incredulous," 
said  the  editor,  smiling. 

"  Well,  I  take  it  all  back !  I  reckon  he 
told  all  he  knew.  I  was  wrong !  I  cave  !  " 

"  Why  ?  ' '  asked  the  editor  wonderingly. 

"Well,  I  have  been  through  the  mill 
myself ! " 

He  unbuttoned  his  shirt  collar,  pointed  to 
his  neck,  which  showed  a  slight  abrasion  and 


206   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

a  small  livid  mark  of  strangulation  at  the 
throat,  and  added,  with  a  grim  smile,  "  And 
I  've  got  about  as  much  proof  as  I  want." 

The  editor  put  down  his  pen  and  stared 
at  him. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Grey,  it  was  partly  your 
fault !  When  you  bedeviled  me  about  get- 
tin'  that  news,  and  allowed  I  might  try  my 
hand  at  reportin',  I  was  fool  enough  to  take 
up  the  challenge.  So  once  or  twice,  when  I 
was  off  duty  here,  I  hung  around  the  Rami- 
erez  shanty.  Once  I  went  in  thar  when  they 
were  gamblin'  ;  thar  war  one  or  two  Ameri 
cans  thar  that  war  winnin'  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  and  was  pretty  full  o'  that  aguardiente 
that  they  sell  thar  —  that  kills  at  forty  rods. 
You  see,  I  had  a  kind  o'  suspicion  that  ef 
thar  was  any  foul  play  goin'  on  it  might  be 
worked  on  these  fellers  arter  they  were  drunk, 
and  war  goin'  home  with  thar  winnin's." 

"  So  you  gave  up  your  theory  of  the 
colonel  being  attacked  from  jealousy  ?  "  said 
the  editor,  smiling. 

"  Hoi'  on !  I  ain't  through  yet !  I  only 
reckoned  that  ef  thar  was  a  gang  of  roughs 
kept  thar  on  the  premises  they  might  be  used 
for  that  purpose,  and  I  only  wanted  to  ketch 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT  THE  FONDA      207 

'em  at  thar  work.  So  I  jest  meandered  into 
the  road  when  they  war  about  comin'  out, 
and  kept  my  eye  skinned  for  what  might  hap 
pen.  Thar  was  a  kind  o'  corral  about  a  hun 
dred  yards  down  the  road,  half  adobe  wall, 
and  a  stockade  o'  palm's  on  top  of  it,  about 
six  feet  high.  Some  of  the  palin's  were  off, 
and  I  peeped  through,  but  thar  warn't  no 
body  thar.  I  stood  thar,  alongside  the  bank, 
leanin'  my  back  agin  one  o'  them  openings, 
and  jest  watched  and  waited. 

"  All  of  a  suddent  I  felt  myself  grabbed 
by  my  coat  collar  behind,  and  my  neck-hand- 
kercher  and  collar  drawn  tight  around  my 
throat  till  I  could  n't  breathe.  The  more  I 
twisted  round,  the  tighter  the  clinch  seemed 
to  get.  I  couldn't  holler  nor  speak,  but 
thar  I  stood  with  my  mouth  open,  pinned 
back  agin  that  cursed  stockade,  and  my 
arms  and  legs  movin'  up  and  down,  like  one 
o'  them  dancin'  jacks  !  It  seems  funny,  Mr. 
Grey  —  I  reckon  I  looked  like  a  darned  fool 
—  but  I  don't  wanter  feel  ag'in  as  I  did  jest 
then.  The  clinch  o'  my  throat  got  tighter  ; 
everything  got  black  about  me ;  I  was  jest 
goin'  off  and  kalkilatin'  it  was  about  time  for 
you  to  advertise  for  another  foreman,  when 
suthin  broke  —  fetched  away  ! 


208   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

"  It  was  my  collar  button,  and  I  dropped 
like  a  shot.  It  was  a  minute  before  I  could 
get  my  breath  ag'in,  and  when  I  did  and 
managed  to  climb  that  darned  stockade,  and 
drop  on  the  other  side,  thar  warn't  a  soul  to  be 
seen !  A  few  bosses  that  stampeded  in  my 
gettin'  over  the  fence  war  all  that  was  there  ! 
I  was  mighty  shook  up,  you  bet !  —  and  to 
make  the  hull  thing  perfectly  ridic'lous,  when 
I  got  back  to  the  road,  after  all  I  'd  got 
through,  darn  my  skin,  ef  thar  warn  't  that 
pesky  lot  o'  drunken  men  staggerin'  along, 
jinglin'  the  scads  they  had  won,  and  enjoyin' 
themselves,  and  nobody  a-followin'  'em!  I 
jined  'em  jest  for  kempany's  sake,  till  we 
got  back  to  town,  but  nothin'  happened." 

"  But,  my  dear  Richards,"  said  the  editor 
warmly,  "  this  is  no  longer  a  matter  of  mere 
reporting,  but  of  business  for  the  police. 
You  must  see  the  deputy  sheriff  at  once, 
and  bring  your  complaint  —  or  shall  I  ?  It 's 
no  joking  matter." 

"Hoi'  on,  Mr.  Grey,"  replied  Richards 
slowly.  "  I  've  told  this  to  nobody  but  you 
—  nor  am  I  goin'  to  —  sdbe  ?  It 's  an  affair 
of  my  own  —  and  I  reckon  I  kin  take  care 
of  it  without  goin'  to  the  Revised  Statutes  of 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      209 

the  State  of  California,  or  callin'  out  the 
sheriff's  posse." 

His  humorous  blue  eyes  just  then  had  cer 
tain  steely  points  in  them  like  glittering 
facets  as  he  turned  them  away,  which  the 
editor  had  seen  before  on  momentous  occa 
sions,  and  he  was  speaking  slowly  and  com 
posedly,  which  the  editor  also  knew  boded 
no  good  to  an  adversary. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Richards,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  Don't  take  as  a  personal  affront 
what  was  a  common,  vulgar  crime.  You 
would  undoubtedly  have  been  robbed  by 
that  rascal  had  not  the  others  come  along." 

Richards  shook  his  head.  "I  might  hev 
bin  robbed  a  dozen  times  afore  they  came 
along  —  ef  that  was  the  little  game.  No, 
Mr.  Grey,  —  it  warn't  no  robbery." 

"  Had  you  been  paying  court  to  the  Se- 
nora  Ramierez,  like  Colonel  Starbottle  ? " 
asked  the  editor,  with  a  smile. 

"Not  much,"  returned  Richards  scorn 
fully  ;  "  she  ain't  my  style.  But "  —  he  hesi 
tated,  and  then  added,  "  thar  was  a  mighty 
purty  gal  thar  —  and  her  darter,  I  reckon 
—  a  reg'lar  pink  fairy !  She  kem  in  only 
a  minute,  and  they  sorter  hustled  her  out 


210   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

ag'in  —  for  darn  my  skin  ef  she  did  n't  look 
as  much  out  o'  place  in  that  smoky  old  gar- 
lic-smellin'  room  as  an  angel  at  a  bull-fight. 
And  what  got  me  —  she  was  ez  white  ez 
you  or  me,  with  blue  eyes,  and  a  lot  o'  dark 
reddish  hair  in  a  long  braid  down  her  back. 
Why,  only  for  her  purty  sing-song  voice 
and  her  '  Gracias,  senorj  you  'd  hev  reck 
oned  she  was  a  Blue  Grass  girl  jest  fresh 
from  across  the  plains." 

A  little  amused  at  his  foreman's  enthusi 
asm,  Mr.  Grey  gave  an  ostentatious  whistle 
and  said,  "  Come,  now,  Richards,  look  here ! 
Really!" 

"  Only  a  little  girl  —  a  mere  child,  Mr. 
Grey  —  not  more  'n  fourteen  if  a  day," 
responded  Richards,  in  embarrassed  depreci 
ation. 

"  Yes,  but  those  people  marry  at  twelve," 
said  the  editor,  with  a  laugh.  "  Look  out ! 
Your  appreciation  may  have  been  noticed 
by  some  other  admirer." 

He  half  regretted  this  speech  the  next 
moment  in  the  quick  flush  —  the  male  in 
stinct  of  rivalry  —  that  brought  back  the 
glitter  of  Richards's  eyes.  "  I  reckon  I  kin 
take  care  of  that,  sir,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      211 

I  kalkilate  that  the  next  time  I  meet  that 
chap  —  whoever  he  may  be  —  he  won't  see 
so  much  of  my  back  as  he  did." 

The  editor  knew  there  was  little  doubt  of 
this,  and  for  an  instant  believed  it  his  duty 
to  put  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  police. 
Richards  was  too  good  and  brave  a  man  to 
be  risked  in  a  bar-room  fight.  But  reflect 
ing  that  this  might  precipitate  the  scandal 
he  wished  to  avoid,  he  concluded  to  make 
some  personal  investigation.  A  stronger 
curiosity  than  he  had  felt  before  was  pos 
sessing  him.  It  was  singular,  too,  that 
Richards' s  description  of  the  girl  was  that  of 
a  different  and  superior  type  —  the  hidalgo, 
or  fair-skinned  Spanish  settler.  If  this  was 
true,  what  was  she  doing  there  —  and  what 
were  her  relations  to  the  Ramierez  ? 


PART  H 

The  next  afternoon  he  went  to  the  fonda. 
Situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town  which 
had  long  outgrown  it,  it  still  bore  traces  of 
its  former  importance  as  a  hacienda,  or 
smaller  farm,  of  one  of  the  old  Spanish 


212   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

landholders.  The  patio,  or  central  court 
yard,  still  existed  as  a  stable-yard  for  carts, 
and  even  one  or  two  horses  were  tethered  to 
the  railings  of  the  inner  corridor,  which  now 
served  as  an  open  veranda  to  the  fonda  or 
inn.  The  opposite  wing  was  utilized  as  a 
tienda,  or  general  shop,  —  a  magazine  for 
such  goods  as  were  used  by  the  Mexican  in 
habitants,  —  and  belonged  also  to  Ramierez. 

Eamierez  himself  —  round-whiskered  and 
Sancho  Panza-like  in  build  —  welcomed  the 
editor  with  fat,  perfunctory  urbanity.  The 
fonda  and  all  it  contained  was  at  his  dispo- 
sicion. 

The  senora  coquettishly  bewailed,  in  ris 
ing  and  falling  inflections,  his  long  absence, 
his  infidelity  and  general  perfidiousness. 
Truly  he  was  growing  great  in  writing  of 
the  affairs  of  his  nation  —  he  could  no  longer 
see  his  humble  friends  !  Yet  not  long  ago 
—  truly  that  very  week  —  there  was  the 
head  impresor  of  Don  Pancho's  imprenta 
himself  who  had  been  there  ! 

A  great  man,  of  a  certainty,  and  they 
must  take  what  they  could  get !  They  were 
only  poor  innkeepers ;  when  the  governor 
came  not  they  must  welcome  the  alcalde. 


WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA      213 

To  which  the  editor  —  otherwise  Don  Pan- 
cho  —  replied  with  equal  effusion.  He  had 
indeed  recommended  the  fonda  to  his  iin- 
presor,  who  was  but  a  courier  before  him. 
But  what  was  this  ?  The  impresor  had 
been  ravished  at  the  sight  of  a  beautiful 
girl  —  a  mere  muchacha  —  yet  of  a  beauty 
that  deprived  the  senses  —  this  angel  — 
clearly  the  daughter  of  his  friend !  Here 
was  the  old  miracle  of  the  orange  in  full 
fruition  and  the  lovely  fragrant  blossom  all 
on  the  same  tree  —  at  the  fonda.  And  this 
had  been  kept  from  him ! 

"  Yes,  it  was  but  a  thing  of  yesterday," 
said  the  senora,  obviously  pleased.  "  The 
muchacha  —  for  she  was  but  that  —  had 
just  returned  from  the  convent  at  San  Jose, 
where  she  had  been  for  four  years.  Ah ! 
what  would  you  ?  The  fonda  was  no  place 
for  the  child,  who  should  know  only  the 
litany  of  the  Virgin  —  and  they  had  kept 
her  there.  And  now  —  that  she  was  home 
again  —  she  cared  only  for  the  horse.  From 
morning  to  night !  Caballeros  might  come 
and  go !  There  might  be  a  festival  —  all  the 
same  to  her,  it  made  nothing  if  she  had  the 
horse  to  ride  !  Even  now  she  was  with  one 


214   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

in  the  fields.  Would  Don  Pancho  attend 
and  see  Cota  and  her  horse  ?  " 

The  editor  smilingly  assented,  and  accom 
panied  his  hostess  along  the  corridor  to  a 
few  steps  which  brought  them  to  the  level 
of  the  open  meadows  of  the  old  farm  inclo- 
sure.  A  slight  white  figure  on  horseback 
was  careering  in  the  distance.  At  a  signal 
from  Senora  Ramierez  it  wheeled  and  came 
down  rapidly  towards  them.  But  when 
within  a  hundred  yards  the  horse  was  sud 
denly  pulled  up  vaquero  fashion,  and  the 
little  figure  leaped  off  and  advanced  toward 
them  on  foot,  leading  the  horse. 

To  his  surprise,  Mr.  Grey  saw  that  she 
had  been  riding  bareback,  and  from  her  dis 
creet  halt  at  that  distance  he  half  suspected 
astride!  His  effusive  compliments  to  the 
mother  on  this  exhibition  of  skill  were  sin 
cere,  for  he  was  struck  by  the  girl's  fear 
lessness.  But  when  both  horse  and  rider 
at  last  stood  before  him,  he  was  speechless 
and  embarrassed. 

For  Richards  had  not  exaggerated  the 
girl's  charms.  She  was  indeed  dangerously 
pretty,  from  her  tawny  little  head  to  her 
small  feet,  and  her  figure,  although  com- 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE   FONDA      215 

paratively  diminutive,  was  perfectly  pro 
portioned.  Gray  eyed  and  blonde  as  she 
was  in  color,  her  racial  peculiarities  were 
distinct,  and  only  the  good-humored  and 
enthusiastic  Richards  could  have  likened 
her  to  an  American  girl. 

But  he  was  the  more  astonished  in  noticing 
that  her  mustang  was  as  distinct  and  peculiar 
as  herself  —  a  mongrel  mare  of  the  extraor 
dinary  type  known  as  a  "  pinto,"  or  "  calico  " 
horse,  mottled  in  lavender  and  pink,  Arabian 
in  proportions,  and  half  broken  !  Her  green 
ish  gray  eyes,  in  which  too  much  of  the 
white  was  visible,  had,  he  fancied,  a  singular 
similarity  of  expression  to  Cota's  own ! 

Utterly  confounded,  and  staring  at  the 
girl  in  her  white,  many  flounced  frock,  bare 
head,  and  tawny  braids,  as  she  stood  beside 
this  incarnation  of  equine  barbarism,  Grey 
could  remember  nothing  like  it  outside  of  a 
circus. 

He  stammered  a  few  words  of  admiration 
of  the  mare.  Miss  Cota  threw  out  her  two 
arms  with  a  graceful  gesture  and  a  profound 
curtsey,  and  said  — 

"  A  la  disposition  de  le  Usted^  senor." 

Grey  was  quick  to  understand  the  mali- 


216   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

cious  mischief  which  underlay  this  formal 
curtsey  and  danced  in  the  girl's  eyes,  and 
even  fancied  it  shared  by  the  animal  itself. 
But  he  was  a  singularly  good  rider  of  un 
trained  stock,  and  rather  proud  of  his  prow 
ess.  He  bowed. 

"  I  accept  that  I  may  have  the  honor  of 
laying  the  senorita's  gift  again  at  her  little 
feet." 

But  here  the  burly  Ramierez  intervened. 
"  Ah,  Mother  of  God  !  May  the  devil  fly 
away  with  all  this  nonsense !  I  will  have  no 
more  of  it,"  he  said  impatiently  to  the  girl. 
"  Have  a  care,  Don  Pancho,"  he  turned  to 
the  editor ;  "  it  is  a  trick  !  " 

"  One  I  think  I  know,"  said  Grey  sapiently. 
The  girl  looked  at  him  curiously  as  he  man 
aged  to  edge  between  her  and  the  mustang, 
under  the  pretense  of  stroking  its  glossy 
neck.  "  I  shall  keep  my  own  spurs,"  he 
said  to  her  in  a  lower  voice,  pointing  to 
the  sharp,  small-roweled  American  spurs  he 
wore,  instead  of  the  large,  blunt,  five-pointed 
star  of  the  Mexican  pattern. 

The  girl  evidently  did  not  understand  him 
then  —  though  she  did  a  moment  later  ! 
For  without  attempting  to  catch  hold  of  the 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      217 

mustang's  mane,  Grey  in  a  single  leap  threw 
himself  across  its  back.  The  animal,  utterly 
unprepared,  was  at  first  stupefied.  But  by 
this  time  her  rider  had  his  seat.  He  felt 
her  sensitive  spine  arch  like  a  cat's  beneath 
him  as  she  sprang  rocket-wise  into  the  air. 

But  here  she  was  mistaken !  Instead  of 
clinging  tightly  to  her  flanks  with  the  inner 
side  of  his  calves,  after  the  old  vaquero  fash 
ion  to  which  she  was  accustomed,  he  dropped 
his  spurred  heels  into  her  sides  and  allowed 
his  body  to  rise  with  her  spring,  and  the 
cruel  spur  to  cut  its  track  upward  from  her 
belly  almost  to  her  back. 

She  dropped  like  a  shot,  he  dexterously 
withdrawing  his  spurs,  and  regaining  his 
seat,  jarred  but  not  discomfited.  Again  she 
essayed  a  leap  ;  the  spurs  again  marked  its 
height  in  a  scarifying  track  along  her  smooth 
barrel.  She  tried  a  third  leap,  but  this  time 
dropped  halfway  as  she  felt  the  steel  scrap 
ing  her  side,  and  then  stood  still,  trembling. 
Grey  leaped  off ! 

There  was  a  sound  of  applause  from  the 
innkeeper  and  his  wife,  assisted  by  a  loun 
ging  vaquero  in  the  corridor.  Ashamed  of 
his  victory,  Grey  turned  apologetically  to 


218   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

Cota.  To  his  surprise  she  glanced  indiffer 
ently  at  the  trickling  sides  of  her  favorite, 
and  only  regarded  him  curiously. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  drawing  in  her  breath, 
"  you  are  strong  —  and  you  comprehend  !  " 

"  It  was  only  a  trick  for  a  trick,  senorita," 
he  replied,  reddening ;  "let  me  look  after 
those  scratches  in  the  stable,"  he  added,  as 
she  was  turning  away,  leading  the  agitated 
and  excited  animal  toward  a  shed  in  the 
rear. 

He  would  have  taken  the  riata  which  she 
was  still  holding,  but  she  motioned  him  to 
precede  her.  He  did  so  by  a  few  feet,  but 
he  had  scarcely  reached  the  stable  door  be 
fore  she  suddenly  caught  him  roughly  by 
the  shoulders,  and,  shoving  him  into  the 
entrance,  slammed  the  door  upon  him. 

Amazed  and  a  little  indignant,  he  turned 
in  time  to  hear  a  slight  sound  of  scuffling 
outside,  and  to  see  Cota  reenter  with  a 
flushed  face. 

"  Pardon,  senor,"  she  said  quickly,  "  but 
I  feared  she  might  have  kicked  you.  Rest 
tranquil,  however,  for  the  servant  he  has 
taken  her  away." 

She  pointed  to  a  slouching  peon  with  a 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT    THE   FONDA      219 

malevolent  face,  who  was  angrily  driving  the 
mustang  toward  the  corral. 

"  Consider  it  no  more !  I  was  rude ! 
Santa  Maria!  I  almost  threw  you,  too  ; 
but,"  she  added,  with  a  dazzling  smile, 
"  you  must  not  punish  me  as  you  have  her ! 
For  you  are  very  strong  —  and  you  compre 
hend." 

But  Grey  did  not  comprehend,  and  with 
a  few  hurried  apologies  he  managed  to  es 
cape  his  fair  but  uncanny  tormentor.  Be 
sides,  this  unlooked-for  incident  had  driven 
from  his  mind  the  more  important  object  of 
his  visit,  —  the  discovery  of  the  assailants 
of  Richards  and  Colonel  Starbottle. 

His  inquiries  of  the  Eamierez  produced 
no  result.  SeSor  Ramierez  was  not  aware 
of  any  suspicious  loiterers  among  the  fre 
quenters  of  the  fonda,  and  except  from  some 
drunken  American  or  Irish  revelers  he  had 
been  free  of  disturbance. 

Ah  !  the  peon  —  an  old  vaquero  —  was 
not  an  angel,  truly,  but  he  was  dangerous 
only  to  the  bull  and  the  wild  horses  —  and 
he  was  afraid  even  of  Cota  !  Mr.  Grey  was 
fain  to  ride  home  empty  of  information. 

He  was  still  more  concerned  a  week  later, 


220   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

on  returning  unexpectedly  one  afternoon  to 
his  sanctum,  to  hear  a  musical,  childish  voice 
in  the  composing-room. 

It  was  Cota  !  She  was  there,  as  Eichards 
explained,  on  his  invitation,  to  view  the 
marvels  and  mysteries  of  printing  at  a  time 
when  they  would  not  be  likely  to  "  disturb 
Mr.  Grey  at  his  work."  But  the  beaming 
face  of  Richards  and  the  simple  tenderness 
of  his  blue  eyes  plainly  revealed  the  sudden 
growth  of  an  evidently  sincere  passion,  and 
the  unwonted  splendors  of  his  best  clothes 
showed  how  carefully  he  had  prepared  for 
the  occasion. 

Grey  was  worried  and  perplexed,  believing 
the  girl  a  malicious  flirt.  Yet  nothing  could 
be  more  captivating  than  her  simple  and 
childish  curiosity,  as  she  watched  Richards 
swing  the  lever  of  the  press,  or  stood  by  his 
side  as  he  marshaled  the  type  into  files  on 
his  "  composing-stick."  He  had  even  printed 
a  card  with  her  name,  "  Senorita  Cota  Rami- 
erez,"  the  type  of  which  had  been  set  up, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  ripples  of  musical 
laughter,  by  her  little  brown  fingers. 

The  editor  might  have  become  quite  senti 
mental  and  poetical  had  he  not  noticed  that 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE   FONDA      221 

the  gray  eyes  which  often  rested  tentatively 
and  meaningly  on  himself,  even  while  ap 
parently  listening  to  Richards,  were  more 
than  ever  like  the  eyes  of  the  mustang  on 
whose  scarred  flanks  her  glance  had  wan 
dered  so  coldly. 

He  withdrew  presently  so  as  not  to  inter 
rupt  his  foreman's  innocent  tete-a-tete,  but 
it  was  not  very  long  after  that  Cota  passed 
him  on  the  highroad  with  the  pinto  horse  in 
a  gallop,  and  blew  him  an  audacious  kiss 
from  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 

For  several  days  afterwards  Richards' s 
manner  was  tinged  with  a  certain  reserve 
on  the  subject  of  Cota  which  the  editor  at 
tributed  to  the  delicacy  of  a  serious  affection, 
but  he  was  surprised  also  to  find  that  his 
foreman's  eagerness  to  discuss  his  unknown 
assailant  had  somewhat  abated.  Further 
discussion  regarding  it  naturally  dropped, 
and  the  editor  was  beginning  to  lose  his 
curiosity  when  it  was  suddenly  awakened 
by  a  chance  incident. 

An  intimate  friend  and  old  companion  of 
his  —  one  Enriquez  Saltillo  —  had  diverged 
from  a  mountain  trip  especially  to  call  upon 
him.  Enriquez  was  a  scion  of  one  of  the 


222   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

oldest  Spanish-California  families,  and  in 
addition  to  his  friendship  for  the  editor  it 
pleased  him  also  to  affect  an  intense  admira 
tion  of  American  ways  and  habits,  and  even 
to  combine  the  current  California  slang  with 
his  native  precision  of  speech  —  and  a  cer 
tain  ironical  levity  still  more  his  own. 

It  seemed,  therefore,  quite  natural  to  Mr. 
Grey  to  find  him  seated  with  his  feet  011  the 
editorial  desk,  his  hat  cocked  011  the  back  of 
his  head,  reading  the  "  Clarion  "  exchanges. 
But  he  was  up  in  a  moment,  and  had  em 
braced  Grey  with  characteristic  effusion. 

"  I  find  myself,  my  leetle  brother,  but  an 
hour  ago  two  leagues  from  this  spot !  I  say 
to  myself,  '  Hola  !  It  is  the  home  of  Don 
Pancho  —  my  friend !  I  shall  find  him  com 
posing  the  magnificent  editorial  leader,  col 
lecting  the  subscription  of  the  big  pumpkin 
and  the  great  gooseberry,  or  gouging  out 
the  eye  of  the  rival  editor,  at  which  I  shall 
assist ! '  I  hesitate  no  longer ;  I  fly  on  the 
instant,  and  I  am  here." 

Grey  was  delighted.  Saltillo  knew  the 
Spanish  population  thoroughly  —  his  own 
superior  race  and  their  Mexican  and  Indian 
allies.  If  any  one  could  solve  the  mystery 


WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA   223 

of  the  Ramierez  fonda,  and  discover  Rich- 
ards's  unknown  assailant,  it  was  he!  But 
Grey  contented  himself,  at  first,  with  a  few 
brief  inquiries  concerning  the  beautiful  Cota 
and  her  anonymous  association  with  the 
Ramierez.  Enriquez  was  as  briefly  com 
municative. 

"  Of  your  suspicions,  my  leetle  brother, 
you  are  right  —  on  the  half !  That  leetle 
angel  of  a  Cota  is,  without  doubt,  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  adorable  Senora  Ramierez,  but  not 
of  the  admirable  senor  —  her  husband.  Ah ! 
what  woidd  you  ?  We  are  a  simple,  patri 
archal  race  ;  thees  Ramierez,  he  was  the 
Mexican  tenant  of  the  old  Spanish  landlord 
—  such  as  my  father  —  and  we  are  ever  the 
fathers  of  the  poor,  and  sometimes  of  their 
children.  It  is  possible,  therefore,  that  the 
exquisite  Cota  resemble  the  Spanish  land 
lord.  Ah !  stop  —  remain  tranquil !  I  re 
member,"  he  went  on,  suddenly  striking  his 
forehead  with  a  dramatic  gesture,  "  the  old 
owner  of  thees  ranch  was  my  cousin  Tibur- 
cio.  Of  a  consequence,  my  friend,  thees 
angel  is  my  second  cousin!  Behold!  I 
shall  call  there  on  the  instant.  I  shall  em 
brace  my  long-lost  relation.  I  shall  intro- 


224   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

duce  my  best  friend,  Don  Pancho,  who  lofe 
her.  I  shall  say,  '  Bless  you,  my  children,' 
and  it  is  f eenish  !  I  go !  I  am  gone  even 
now ! " 

He  started  up  and  clapped  on  his  hat,  but 
Grey  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Enriquez,  be  serious 
for  once,"  he  said,  forcing  him  back  into  the 
chair.  "And  don't  speak  so  loud.  The 
foreman  in  the  other  room  is  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  the  girl.  In  fact,  it  is  on  his 
account  that  I  am  making  these  inquiries." 

"  Ah,  the  gentleman  of  the  pantuflos, 
whose  trousers  will  not  remain !  I  have 
seen  him,  friend.  Truly  he  has  the  ambi 
tion  excessif  to  arrive  from  the  bed  to  go  to 
the  work  without  the  dress  or  the  wash. 
But,"  in  recognition  of  Grey's  half  serious 
impatience,  "  remain  tranquil.  On  him  I 
shall  not  go  back!  I  have  said!  The 
friend  of  my  friend  is  ever  the  same  as  my 
friend !  He  is  truly  not  seducing  to  the 
eye,  but  without  doubt  he  will  arrive  a  gov 
ernor  or  a  senator  in  good  time.  I  shall 
gif  to  him  my  second  cousin.  It  is  feenish ! 
I  wiU  tell  him  now !  " 

He  attempted  to  rise,  but  was  held  down 
and  vigorously  shaken  by  Grey. 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE   FONDA      225 

"  I  've  half  a  mind  to  let  you  do  it,  and 
get  chucked  through  the  window  for  your 
pains,"  said  the  editor,  with  a  half  laugh. 
"  Listen  to  me.  This  is  a  more  serious  mat 
ter  than  you  suppose." 

And  Grey  briefly  recounted  the  incident 
of  the  mysterious  attacks  on  Starbottle  and 
Richards.  As  he  proceeded  he  noticed, 
however,  that  the  ironical  light  died  out  of 
Enriquez's  eyes,  and  a  singular  thoughtful- 
ness,  yet  unlike  his  usual  precise  gravity, 
came  over  his  face.  He  twirled  the  ends  of 
his  penciled  mustache  —  an  unfailing  sign 
of  Enriquez's  emotion. 

"The  same  accident  that  arrive  to  two 
men  that  shall  be  as  opposite  as  the  gallant 
Starbottle  and  the  excellent  Richards  shall 
not  prove  that  it  come  from  Ramierez, 
though  they  both  were  at  the  fonda,"  he 
said  gravely.  "  The  cause  of  it  have  not 
come  to-day,  nor  yesterday,  nor  last  week. 
The  cause  of  it  have  arrive  before  there 
was  any  gallant  Starbottle  or  excellent  Rich 
ards  ;  before  there  was  any  American  in 
California  —  before  you  and  I,  my  leetle 
brother,  have  lif !  The  cause  happen  first  — 
two  hundred  years  ago!  " 


'  226   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

The  editor's  start  of  impatient  incredulity 
was  checked  by  the  unmistakable  sincerity 
of  Enriquez's  face.  "  It  is  so,"  he  went  on 
gravely ;  "  it  is  an  old  story  —  it  is  a  long 
story.  I  shall  make  him  short  —  and  new." 

He  stopped  and  lit  a  cigarette  without 
changing  his  odd  expression. 

"  It  was  when  the  padres  first  have  the 
mission,  and  take  the  heathen  and  convert 
him  —  and  save  his  soul.  It  was  their  busi 
ness,  you  comprehend,  my  Pancho?  The 
more  heathen  they  convert,  the  more  soul 
they  save,  the  better  business  for  their  mis 
sion  shop.  But  the  heathen  do  not  always 
wish  to  be  '  convert ; '  the  heathen  fly,  the 
heathen  skidaddle,  the  heathen  will  not  re 
main,  or  will  backslide.  What  will  you  do? 
So  the  holy  fathers  make  a  little  game. 
You  do  not  of  a  possibility  comprehend  how 
the  holy  fathers  make  a  convert,  my  leetle 
brother?"  he  added  gravely. 

"  No,"  said  the  editor. 

"  I  shall  tell  to  you.  They  take  from  the 
presidio  five  or  six  dragons  —  you  compre 
hend —  the  cavalry  soldiers,  and  they  pur 
sue  the  heathen  from  his  little  hut.  When 
they  cannot  surround  him  and  he  fly,  they 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE  FONDA      227 

catch  him  with  the  lasso,  like  the  wild  hoss. 
The  lasso  catch  him  around  the  neck ;  he  is 
obliged  to  remain.  Sometime  he  is  strangle. 
Sometime  he  is  dead,  but  the  soul  is  save ! 
You  believe  not,  Pancho  ?  I  see  you  wrin 
kle  the  brow  —  you  flash  the  eye  ;  you  like 
it  not  ?  Believe  me,  I  like  it  not,  neither, 
but  it  is  so !  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  threw  away 
his  half  smoked  cigarette,  and  went  on. 

"  One  time  a  padre  who  have  the  zeal 
excessif  for  the  saving  of  soul,  when  he  find 
the  heathen,  who  is  a  young  girl,  have  es 
cape  the  soldiers,  he  of  himself  have  seize 
the  lasso  and  flung  it !  He  is  lucky ;  he 
catch  her  —  but  look  you!  She  stop  not 
—  she  still  fly !  She  not  only  fly,  but  of  a 
surety  she  drag  the  good  padre  with  her ! 
He  cannot  loose  himself,  for  his  riata  is  fast 
to  the  saddle ;  the  dragons  cannot  help,  for 
he  is  drag  so  fast.  On  the  instant  she  have 
gone  —  and  so  have  the  padre.  For  why  ? 
It  is  not  a  young  girl  he  have  lasso,  but  the 
devil!  You  comprehend  —  it  is  a  punish 
ment  —  a  retribution  —  he  is  f eenish !  And 
forever  I 

"  For  every  year  he  must  come  back  a 


228   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

spirit  —  on  a  spirit  hoss  —  and  swing  the 
lasso,  and  make  as  if  to  catch  the  heathen. 
He  is  condemn  ever  to  play  his  little  game ; 
now  there  is  no  heathen  more  to  convert,  he 
catch  what  he  can.  My  grandfather  have 
once  seen  him  —  it  is  night  and  a  storm,  and 
he  pass  by  like  a  flash !  My  grandfather  like 
it  not  —  he  is  much  dissatisfied !  My  uncle 
have  seen  him,  too,  but  he  make  the  sign  of 
the  cross,  and  the  lasso  have  fall  to  the  side, 
and  my  uncle  have  much  gratification.  A 
vaquero  of  my  father  and  a  peon  of  my  cou 
sin  have  both  been  picked  up,  lassoed,  and 
dragged  dead. 

"  Many  peoples  have  died  of  him  in  the 
strangling.  Sometime  he  is  seen,  sometime 
it  is  the  woman  only  that  one  sees  —  some 
time  it  is  but  the  hoss.  But  ever  somebody 
is  dead  —  strangle !  Of  a  truth,  my  friend, 
the  gallant  Starbottle  and  the  ambitious 
Richards  have  just  escaped  !  " 

The  editor  looked  curiously  at  his  friend. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  suggestion  of 
mischief  or  irony  in  his  tone  or  manner ; 
nothing,  indeed,  but  a  sincerity  and  anxiety 
usually  rare  with  his  temperament.  It  struck 
him  also  that  his  speech  had  but  little  of  the 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   THE   FONDA      229 

odd  California  slang  which  was  always  a 
part  of  his  imitative  levity.  He  was  puzzled. 

44  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  supersti 
tion  is  well  known?"  he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Among  my  people  —  yes." 

"  And  do  you  believe  in  it  ?  " 

Enriquez  was  silent.  Then  he  arose,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Quien  sabe  ?  It 
is  not  more  difficult  to  comprehend  than 
your  story." 

He  gravely  put  on  his  hat.  With  it 
he  seemed  to  have  put  on  his  old  levity. 
"Come,  behold,  it  is  a  long  time  between 
drinks !  Let  us  to  the  hotel  and  the  bar- 
keep,  who  shall  give  up  the  smash  of  brandy 
and  the  julep  of  mints  before  the  lasso  of 
Friar  Pedro  shall  prevent  us  the  swallow ! 
Let  us  skiddadle  !  " 

Mr.  Grey  returned  to  the  "  Clarion  "  office 
in  a  much  more  satisfied  condition  of  mind. 
Whatever  faith  he  held  in  Enriquez' s  sin 
cerity,  for  the  first  time  since  the  attack  on 
Colonel  Starbottle  he  believed  he  had  found 
a  really  legitimate  journalistic  opportunity 
in  the  incident.  The  legend  and  its  singular 
coincidence  with  the  outrages  would  make 
capital  "  copy." 


230   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

No  names  would  be  mentioned,  yet  even 
if  Colonel  Starbottle  recognized  his  own  ad 
venture,  he  could  not  possibly  object  to  this 
interpretation  of  it.  The  editor  had  found 
that  few  people  objected  to  be  the  hero  of  a 
ghost  story,  or  the  favored  witness  of  a  spirit 
ual  manifestation.  Nor  could  Richards  find 
fault  with  this  view  of  his  own  experience, 
hitherto  kept  a  secret,  so  long  as  it  did  not 
refer  to  his  relations  with  the  fair  Cota. 
Summoning  him  at  once  to  his  sanctum,  he 
briefly  repeated  the  story  he  had  just  heard, 
and  his  purpose  of  using  it.  To  his  sur 
prise,  Richards's  face  assumed  a  seriousness 
and  anxiety  equal  to  Enriquez's  own. 

"  It 's  a  good  story,  Mr.  Grey,"  he  said 
awkwardly,  "  and  I  ain't  sayin'  it  ain't  mighty 
good  newspaper  stuff,  but  it  won't  do  now, 
for  the  whole  mystery  's  up  and  the  assailant 
found." 

"Found!  When?  Why  did  n't  you  teU 
me  before  ? "  exclaimed  Grey,  in  astonish 
ment. 

"  I  did  n't  reckon  ye  were  so  keen  on  it," 
said  Richards  embarrassedly,  "  and  —  and 
—  it  wasn't  my  own  secret  altogether." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  editor  impatiently. 


WE  AT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA   231 

"  Well,"  said  Richards  slowly  and  dog 
gedly,  "ye  see  there  was  a  fool  that  was 
sweet  on  Cota,  and  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
bedeviled  by  her  to  ride  her  cursed  pink 
and  yaller  mustang.  Naturally  the  beast 
bolted  at  once,  but  he  managed  to  hang  on 
by  the  mane  for  half  a  mile  or  so,  when  it 
took  to  buck  -  jumpin'.  The  first  '  buck  ' 
threw  him  clean  into  the  road,  but  didn't 
stun  him,  yet  when  he  tried  to  rise,  the  first 
thing  he  knowed  he  was  grabbed  from  be 
hind  and  half  choked  by  somebody.  He  was 
held  so  tight  that  he  could  n't  turn,  but  he 
managed  to  get  out  his  revolver  and  fire  two 
shots  under  his  arm.  The  grip  held  on  for  a 
minute,  and  then  loosened,  and  the  somethin' 
slumped  down  on  top  o'  him,  but  he  man 
aged  to  work  himself  around.  And  then  — 
what  do  you  think  he  saw  ?  —  why,  that  thar 
hoss!  with  two  bullet  holes  in  his  neck, 
lyin'  beside  him,  but  still  grippin'  his  coat 
collar  and  neck-handkercher  in  his  teeth  ! 
Yes,  sir!  the  rough  that  attacked  Colonel 
Starbottle,  the  villain  that  took  me  behind 
when  I  was  leanin'  agin  that  cursed  fence, 
was  that  same  God-forsaken,  hell-invented 
pinto  hoss ! " 


232   WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  FONDA 

In  a  flash  of  recollection  the  editor  re 
membered  his  own  experience,  and  the  singu 
lar  scuffle  outside  the  stable  door  of  the 
fonda.  Undoubtedly  Cota  had  saved  him 
from  a  similar  attack. 

"But  why  not  tell  this  story  with  the 
other?"  said  the  editor,  returning  to  his 
first  idea.  "  It 's  tremendously  interesting." 

"  It  won't  do,"  said  Richards,  with  dogged 
resolution. 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  Mr.  Grey  —  that  fool  was  my 
self  ! " 

"  You !     Again  attacked  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Richards,  with  a  darkening 
face.  "  Again  attacked,  and  by  the  same 
hoss  !  Cota's  hoss  !  Whether  Cota  was  or 
was  not  knowin'  its  tricks,  she  was  actually 
furious  at  me  for  killin'  it  —  and  it  's  all 
over  'twixt  me  and  her." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  editor  impulsively  ; 
"she  will  forgive  you!  You  didn't  know 
your  assailant  was  a  horse  when  you  fired. 
Look  at  the  attack  on  you  in  the  road !  " 

Richards  shook  his  head  with  dogged 
hopelessness.  "  It 's  no  use,  Mr.  Grey.  I 
oughter  guessed  it  was  a  hoss  then  —  thar 


WHAT  HAPPENED   AT   TEE   FONDA      233 

was  nothin'  else  in  that  corral.  No  !  Cota  's 
already  gone  away  back  to  San  Jose,  and  I 
reckon  the  Ramierez  has  got  scared  of  her 
and  packed  her  off.  So,  on  account  of  its 
bein'  her  hoss,  and  what  happened  betwixt 
me  and  her,  you  see  my  mouth  is  shut." 

"  And  the  columns  of  the  '  Clarion  '  too," 
said  the  editor,  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  know  it 's  hard,  sir,  but  it 's  better  so. 
I  've  reckoned  mebbe  she  was  a  little  crazy, 
and  since  you  've  told  me  that  Spanish  yarn, 
it  mout  be  that  she  was  sort  o'  playin'  she 
was  that  priest,  and  trained  that  mustang  ez 
she  did." 

After  a  pause,  something  of  his  old  self 
came  back  into  his  blue  eyes  as  he  sadly 
hitched  up  his  braces  and  passed  them  over 
his  broad  shoulders.  "Yes,  sir,  I  was  a 
fool,  for  we  've  lost  the  only  bit  of  real  sen 
sation  news  that  ever  came  in  the  way  of 
the  '  Clarion.'  " 


A  JACK  AND  JILL  OF  THE 
SIERRAS 

IT  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
the  hottest  hour  of  the  day  on  that  Sierran 
foothill.  The  western  sun,  streaming  down 
the  mile-long  slope  of  close-set  pine  crests, 
had  been  caught  on  an  outlying  ledge  of 
glaring  white  quartz,  covered  with  mining 
tools  and  debris,  and  seemed  to  have  been 
thrown  into  an  incandescent  rage.  The  air 
above  it  shimmered  and  became  visible.  A 
white  canvas  tent  on  it  was  an  object  not  to 
be  borne  ;  the  steel-tipped  picks 'and  shovels, 
intolerable  to  touch  and  eyesight,  and  a 
tilted  tin  prospecting  pan,  falling  over, 
flashed  out  as  another  sun  of  insufferable 
effulgence.  At  such  moments  the  five  mem 
bers  of  the  "  Eureka  Mining  Company  " 
prudently  withdrew  to  the  nearest  pine-tree, 
which  cast  a  shadow  so  sharply  denned  on 
the  glistening  sand  that  the  impingement 
of  a  hand  or  finger  beyond  that  line  cut  like 
a  knife.  The  men  lay,  or  squatted,  in  this 


A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      235 

shadow,  feverishly  puffing  their  pipes  and 
waiting  for  the  sun  to  slip  beyond  the  burn 
ing  ledge.  Yet  so  irritating  was  the  dry  air, 
fragrant  with  the  aroma  of  the  heated  pines, 
that  occasionally  one  would  start  up  and 
walk  about  until  he  had  brought  on  that 
profuse  perspiration  which  gave  a  momen 
tary  relief,  and,  as  he  believed,  saved  him 
from  sunstroke.  Suddenly  a  voice  exclaimed 
querulously :  — 

"  Derned  if  the  blasted  bucket  ain't 
empty  ag'in  !  Not  a  drop  left,  by  Jimminy ! " 

A  stare  of  helpless  disgust  was  exchanged 
by  the  momentarily  uplifted  heads ;  then 
every  man  lay  down  again,  as  if  trying  to 
erase  himself. 

"  Who  brought  the  last  ?  "  demanded  the 
foreman. 

"  /  did,"  said  a  reflective  voice  coming 
from  a  partner  lying  comfortably  on  his 
back,  "  and  if  anybody  reckons  I  'm  going 
to  face  Tophet  ag'in  down  that  slope,  he  's 
mistaken  !  "  The  speaker  was  thirsty  —  but 
he  had  principles. 

"  We  must  throw  round  for  it,"  said  the 
foreman,  taking  the  dice  from  his  pocket. 

He  cast ;  the  lowest  number  fell  to  Park- 


236      A  JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

hurst,  a  florid,  full-blooded  Texan.  "All 
right,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  wiping  his  fore 
head,  and  lifting  the  tin  pail  with  a  resigned 
air,  "  only  ef  anything  comes  to  me  on  that 
bare  stretch  o'  stage  road,  —  and  I  'm  kinder 
seein'  things  spotty  and  black  now,  —  re 
member  you  ain't  anywhar  nearer  the  water 
than  you  were  !  I  ain't  sayin'  it  for  my 
self  —  but  it  mout  be  rough  on  you  — 
and"  — 

"  Give  me  the  pail,"  interrupted  a  tall 
young  fellow,  rising.  "  I  '11  risk  it." 

Cries  of  "  Good  old  Ned,"  and  "  Hunky 
boy !  "  greeted  him  as  he  took  the  pail  from 
the  perspiring  Parkhurst,  who  at  once  lay 
down  again.  "  You  may  n't  be  a  professin' 
Christian,  in  good  standin',  Ned  Bray,"  con 
tinued  Parkhurst  from  the  ground,  "but 
you're  about  as  white  as  they  make  'em, 
and  you  're  goin'  to  do  a  Heavenly  Act !  I 
repeat  it,  gents  —  a  Heavenly  Act !  " 

Without  a  reply  Bray  walked  off  with 
the  pail,  stopping  only  in  the  underbrush 
to  pluck  a  few  soft  fronds  of  fern,  part  of 
which  he  put  within  the  crown  of  his  hat, 
and  stuck  the  rest  in  its  band  around  the 
outer  brim,  making  a  parasol -like  shade 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      237 

above  his  shoulders.  Thus  equipped  he 
passed  through  the  outer  fringe  of  pines  to 
a  rocky  trail  which  began  to  descend  to 
wards  the  stage  road.  Here  he  was  in  the 
full  glare  of  the  sun  and  its  reflection  from 
the  heated  rocks,  which  scorched  his  feet 
and  pricked  his  bent  face  into  a  rash.  The 
descent  was  steep  and  necessarily  slow  from 
the  slipperiness  of  the  desiccated  pine  nee 
dles  that  had  fallen  from  above.  Nor  were 
his  troubles  over  when,  a  few  rods  further, 
lie  came  upou  the  stage  road,  which  here 
swept  in  a  sharp  curve  round  the  flank  of 
the  mountain.  Its  red  dust,  ground  by 
heavy  wagons  and  pack-trains  into  a  fine 
powder,  was  nevertheless  so  heavy  with 
some  metallic  substance  that  it  scarcely 
lifted  with  the  foot,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
literally  wade  through  it.  Yet  there  were 
two  hundred  yards  of  this  road  to  be  passed 
before  he  could  reach  that  point  of  its  bank 
where  a  narrow  and  precipitous  trail  dropped 
diagonally  from  it,  to  creep  along  the  moun 
tain  side  to  the  spring  he  was  seeking. 

When  he  reached  the  trail,  he  paused  to 
take  breath  and  wipe  the  blinding  beads  of 
sweat  from  his  eyes  before  he  cautiously 


238      A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

swung  himself  over  the  bank  into  it.  A 
single  misstep  here  would  have  sent  him 
headlong  to  the  tops  of  pine-trees  a  thou 
sand  feet  below.  Holding  his  pail  in  one 
hand,  with  the  other  he  steadied  himself  by 
clutching  the  ferns  and  brambles  at  his  side, 
and  at  last  reached  the  spring  —  a  niche  in 
the  mountain  side  with  a  ledge  scarcely  four 
feet  wide.  He  had  merely  accomplished  the 
ordinary  gymnastic  feat  performed  by  the 
members  of  the  Eureka  Company  four  or 
five  times  a  day !  But  the  day  was  excep 
tionally  hot.  He  held  his  wrists  to  cool  their 
throbbing  pulses  in  the  clear,  cold  stream 
that  gurgled  into  its  rocky  basin  ;  he  threw 
the  water  over  his  head  and  shoulders ;  he 
swung  his  legs  over  the  ledge  and  let  the 
overflow  fall  on  his  dusty  shoes  and  ankles. 
Gentle  and  delicious  rigors  came  over  him. 
He  sat  with  half  closed  eyes  looking  across 
the  dark  olive  depths  of  the  canon  between 
him  and  the  opposite  mountain.  A  hawk 
was  swinging  lazily  above  it,  apparently 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  him ;  he  knew  it 
was  at  least  a  mile  away.  Thirty  feet  above 
him  ran  the  stage  road ;  he  could  hear  quite 
distinctly  the  slow  thud  of  hoofs,  the  dull  jar 


A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      239 

of  harness,  and  the  labored  creaking  of  the 
Pioneer  Coach  as  it  crawled  up  the  long 
ascent,  part  of  which  he  had  just  passed. 
He  thought  of  it,  —  a  slow  drifting  cloud  of 
dust  and  heat,  as  he  had  often  seen  it,  aban 
doned  by  even  its  passengers,  who  sought 
shelter  in  the  wayside  pines  as  they  toiled 
behind  it  to  the  summit,  —  and  hugged  him 
self  in  the  grateful  shadows  of  the  spring. 
It  had  passed  out  of  hearing  and  thought, 
he  had  turned  to  fill  his  pail,  when  he  was 
startled  by  a  shower  of  dust  and  gravel 
from  the  road  above,  and  the  next  mo 
ment  he  was  thrown  violently  down,  blinded 
and  pinned  against  the  ledge  by  the  fall  of 
some  heavy  body  on  his  back  and  shoulders. 
His  last  flash  of  consciousness  was  that  he 
had  been  struck  by  a  sack  of  flour  slipped 
from  the  pack  of  some  passing  mule. 

How  long  he  remained  unconscious  he 
never  knew.  It  was  probably  not  long,  for 
his  chilled  hands  and  arms,  thrust  by  the 
blow  on  his  shoulders  into  the  pool  of  water, 
assisted  in  restoring  him.  He  came  to  with 
a  sense  of  suffocating  pressure  on  his  back, 
but  his  head  and  shoulders  were  swathed  in 
utter  darkness  by  the  folds  of  some  soft 


240      A   JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

fabrics  and  draperies,  which,  to  his  connect 
ing  consciousness,  seemed  as  if  the  contents 
of  a  broken  bale  or  trunk  had  also  fallen 
from  the  pack.  With  a  tremendous  effort 
he  succeeded  in  getting  his  arm  out  of  the 
pool,  and  attempted  to  free  his  head  from 
its  blinding  enwrappings.  In  doing  so  his 
hand  suddenly  touched  human  flesh  —  a 
soft,  bared  arm  !  With  the  same  astounding 
discovery  came  one  more  terrible :  that  arm 
belonged  to  the  weight  that  was  pressing 
him  down ;  and  now.  assisted  by  his  strug 
gles,  it  was  slowly  slipping  toward  the 
brink  of  the  ledge  and  the  abyss  below ! 
With  a  desperate  effort  he  turned  on  his 
side,  caught  the  body,  —  as  such  it  was,  — 
dragged  it  back  on  the  ledge,  at  the  same 
moment  that,  freeing  his  head  from  its  cov 
ering,  —  a  feminine  skirt,  —  he  discovered  it 
was  a  woman ! 

She  had  been  also  unconscious,  although 
the  touch  of  his  cold,  wet  hand  on  her  skin 
had  probably  given  her  a  shock  that  was 
now  showing  itself  in  a  convulsive  shudder 
of  her  shoulders  and  a  half  opening  of  her 
eyes.  Suddenly  she  began  to  stare  at  him, 
to  draw  in  her  knees  and  feet  toward  her, 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF    THE   SIERRAS      241 

sideways,  with  a  feminine  movement,  as  she 
smoothed  out  her  skirt,  and  kept  it  down 
with  a  hand  on  which  she  leaned.  She  was 
a  tall,  handsome  girl,  from  what  he  could 
judge  of  her  half-sitting  figure  in  her  torn 
silk  dust-cloak,  which,  although  its  cape  and 
one  sleeve  were  split  into  ribbons,  had  still 
protected  her  delicate,  well-fitting  gown  be 
neath.  She  was  evidently  a  lady. 

"  What  —  is  it  ?  —  what  has  happened  ?  " 
she  said  faintly,  yet  with  a  slight  touch  of 
formality  in  her  manner. 

"  You  must  have  fallen  —  from  the  road 
above,"  said  Bray  hesitatingly." 

"From  the  road  above?"  she  repeated, 
with  a  slight  frown,  as  if  to  concentrate  her 
thought.  She  glanced  upward,  then  at  the 
ledge  before  her,  and  then,  for  the  first  time, 
at  the  darkening  abyss  below.  The  color, 
which  had  begun  to  return,  suddenly  left 
her  face  here,  and  she  drew  instinctively 
back  against  the  mountain  side.  "Yes," 
she  half  murmured  to  herself,  rather  than 
to  him,  "  it  must  be  so.  I  was  walking  too 
near  the  bank  —  and  —  I  f  eU  !  "  Then 
turning  to  him,  she  said,  "  And  you  found 
me  lying  here  when  you  came." 


242      A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE  SIERRAS 

"  I  think,"  stammered  Bray,  "  that  I  was 
here  when  you  fell,  and  I  —  I  broke  the 
fall."  He  was  sorry  for  it  a  moment  after 
ward. 

She  lifted  her  handsome  gray  eyes  to 
him,  saw  the  dust,  dirt,  and  leaves  on  his 
back  and  shoulders,  the  collar  of  his  shirt 
torn  open,  and  a  few  spots  of  blood  from  a 
bruise  on  his  forehead.  Her  black  eyebrows 
straightened  again  as  she  said  coldly,  "  Dear 
me!  I  am  very  sorry;  I  could  n't  help  it,  you 
know.  I  hope  you  are  not  otherwise  hurt." 

"  No,"  he  replied  quickly.  "  But  you,  are 
you  sure  you  are  not  injured?  It  must  have 
been  a  terrible  shock." 

"  I  'm  not  hurt,"  she  said,  helping  herself 
to  her  feet  by  the  aid  of  the  mountain-side 
bushes,  and  ignoring  his  proffered  hand. 
"  But,"  she  added  quickly  and  impressively, 
glancing  upward  toward  the  stage  road  over 
head,  "  why  don't  they  come  ?  They  must 
have  missed  me  !  I  must  have  been  here 
a  long  time  ;  it 's  too  bad  !  " 

"  They  missed  you  ?  "  he  repeated  diffi 
dently. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  impatiently,  "  of  course  ! 
I  was  n't  alone.  Don't  you  understand  ?  I 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      243 

got  out  of  the  coach  to  walk  uphill  on  the 
bank  under  the  trees.  It  was  so  hot  and 
stuffy.  My  foot  must  have  slipped  up  there 
—  and  —  I  —  slid  —  down.  Have  you  heard 
any  one  calling  me  ?  Have  you  called  out 
yourself  ?  " 

Mr.  Bray  did  not  like  to  say  he  had  only 
just  recovered  consciousness.  He  smiled 
vaguely  and  foolishly.  Bat  on  turning 
around  in  her  impatience,  she  caught  sight 
of  the  chasm  again,  and  lapsed  quite  white 
against  the  mountain  side. 

"  Let  me  give  you  some  water  from  the 
spring,"  he  said  eagerly,  as  she  sank  again  to 
a  sitting  posture  ;  "  it  will  refresh  you." 

He  looked  hesitatingly  around  him ;  he 
had  neither  cup  nor  flask,  but  he  filled 
the  pail  and  held  it  with  great  dexterity  to 
her  lips.  She  drank  a  little,  extracted  a 
lace  handkerchief  from  some  hidden  pocket, 
dipped  its  point  in  the  water,  and  wiped  her 
face  delicately,  after  a  certain  feline  fashion. 
Then,  catching  sight  of  some  small  object  in 
the  fork  of  a  bush  above  her,  she  quickly 
pounced  upon  it,  and  with  a  swift  sweep  of 
her  hand  under  her  skirt,  put  on  her  fallen 
slipper,  and  stood  on  her  feet  again. 


244      A  JACK  AND    JILL    OF   THE  SIERRAS 

"  How  does  one  get  out  of  such  a  place  ?  " 
she  asked  fretfully,  and  then,  glancing  at  him 
half  indignantly,  "  why  don't  you  shout  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  he  said  gently, 
"  that  when  you  are  a  little  stronger,  we  can 
get  out  by  the  way  I  came  in,  —  along  the 
trail." 

He  pointed  to  the  narrow  pathway  along 
the  perilous  incline.  Somehow,  with  this  tall, 
beautiful  creature  beside  him,  it  looked  more 
perilous  than  before.  She  may  have  thought 
so  too,  for  she  drew  in  her  breath  sharply 
and  sank  down  again. 

"  Is  there  no  other  way  ?  " 

«  None  ! " 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  be  here  ?  "  she 
asked  suddenly,  opening  her  gray  eyes  upon 
him.  "  What  did  you  come  here  for  ?  " 
she  went  on,  almost  impertinently. 

"  To  fetch  a  pail  of  water."  He  stopped, 
and  then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
after  all  there  was  no  reason  for  his  being 
bullied  by  this  tall,  good-looking  girl,  even 
if  he  had  saved  her.  He  gave  a  little  laugh, 
and  added  mischievously,  "  Just  like  Jack 
and  Jill,  you  know." 

"  What  ?  "  she  said  sharply,  bending  her 
black  brows  at  him. 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      245 

"  Jack  and  Jill,"  lie  returned  carelessly  ; 
"  I  broke  niy  crown,  you  know,  and  you" 
—  he  did  not  finish. 

She  stared  at  him,  trying  to  keep  her  face 
and  her  composure ;  but  a  smile,  that  on 
her  imperious  lips  he  thought  perfectly  ador 
able,  here  lifted  the  corners  of  her  mouth, 
and  she  turned  her  face  aside.  But  the 
smile,  and  the  line  of  dazzling  little  teeth  it 
revealed,  were  unfortunately  on  the  side 
toward  him.  Emboldened  by  this,  he  went 
on,  "  I  could  n't  think  what  had  happened. 
At  first  I  had  a  sort  of  idea  that  part  of  a 
mule's  pack  had  fallen  on  top  of  me,  — 
blankets,  flour,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
you  know,  until  "  — 

Her  smile  had  vanished.  "  Well,"  she 
said  impatiently,  "  until  ?  " 

"  Until  I  touched  you.  I  'm  afraid  I 
gave  you  a  shock  ;  my  hand  was  dripping 
from  the  spring." 

She  colored  so  quickly  that  he  knew  she 
must  have  been  conscious  at  the  time,  and 
he  noticed  now  that  the  sleeve  of  her  cloak, 
which  had  been  half  torn  off  her  bare  arm, 
was  pinned  together  over  it.  When  and 
how  had  she  managed  to  do  it  without  his 
detecting  the  act  ? 


246      A   JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

"  At  all  events,"  she  said  coldly,  "  I  'm 
glad  you  have  not  received  greater  injury 
from  —  your  mule  pack." 

"  I  think  we  've  both  been  very  lucky," 
he  said  simply. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  remained  looking 
furtively  at  the  narrow  trail.  Then  she  lis 
tened.  "  I  thought  I  heard  voices,"  she  said, 
half  rising. 

"  Shall  I  shout?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  !  You  say  there  's  no  use  —  there 's 
only  this  way  out  of  it ! " 

"  I  might  go  up  first,  and  perhaps  get 
assistance  —  a  rope  or  chair,"  he  suggested. 

"And  leave  me  here  alone?"  she  cried, 
with  a  horrified  glance  at  the  abyss.  "  No, 
thank  you !  I  should  be  over  that  ledge 
before  you  came  back !  There 's  a  dreadful 
fascination  in  it  even  now.  No !  I  think 
I  'd  rather  go  —  at  once  !  I  never  shall  be 
stronger  as  long  as  I  stay  near  it ;  I  may  be 
weaker." 

She  gave  a  petulant  little  shiver,  and 
then,  though  paler  and  evidently  agitated, 
composed  her  tattered  and  dusty  outer  gar 
ments  in  a  deft,  ladylike  way,  and  leaned 
back  against  the  mountain  side.  He  saw 


A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      247 

her  also  glance  at  his  loosened  shirt  front 
and  hanging  neckerchief,  and  with  a  height 
ened  color  he  quickly  re-knotted  it  around 
his  throat.  They  moved  from  the  ledge  to 
ward  the  trail.  Suddenly  she  started  back. 

"  But  it 's  only  wide  enough  for  o/ie,  and 
I  never  —  never  —  could  even  stand  on  it  a 
minute  alone  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  looked  at  her  critically.  "We  will 
go  together,  side  by  side,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  but  you  will  have  to  take  the  outside." 

"  Outside  !  "  she  repeated,  recoiling.  "  Im 
possible  !  I  shall  fall." 

"  I  shall  keep  hold  of  you,"  he  explained  ; 
"  you  need  not  fear  that.  Stop  !  I  '11  make 
it  safer."  He  untied  the  large  bandanna 
silk  handkerchief  which  he  wore  around  his 
shoulders,  knotted  one  end  of  it  firmly  to 
his  belt,  and  handed  her  the  other. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  hold  on  to  that  ?  " 

"I  —  don't  know "  —  she  hesitated.  " If 
I  should  fall?" 

"  Stay  a  moment !  Is  your  belt  strong  ?  " 
He  pointed  to  a  girdle  of  yellow  leather 
which  caught  her  tunic  around  her  small 
waist. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  eagerly, "  it 's  real  leather." 


248      A  JACK   AND   JILL    OF   TEE   SIERRAS 

He  gently  slipped  the  edge  of  the  handker 
chief  under  it  and  knotted  it.  They  were 
thus  linked  together  by  a  foot  of  handker 
chief. 

"  I  feel  much  safer,"  she  said,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

"But  if  /  should  fall,"  he  remarked, 
looking  into  her  eyes,  "  you  would  go  too  ! 
Have  you  thought  of  that  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Her  previous  charming  smile 
returned.  "  It  would  be  really  Jack  and 
Jill  this  time." 

They  passed  out  on  the  trail.  "  Now  I 
must  take  your  arm,"  he  said  laughingly ; 
" not  you  mine"  He  passed  his  arm  under 
hers,  holding  it  firmly.  It  was  the  one  he 
had  touched.  For  the  first  few  steps  her 
uncertain  feet  took  no  hold  of  the  sloping 
mountain  side,  which  seemed  to  slip  sideways 
beneath  her.  He  was  literally  carrying  her 
on  his  shoulder.  But  in  a  few  moments  she 
saw  how  cleverly  he  balanced  himself,  always 
leaning  toward  the  hillside,  and  presently  she 
was  able  to  help  him  by  a  few  steps.  She 
expressed  her  surprise  at  his  skill. 

"  It 's  nothing ;  I  carry  a  pail  of  water  up 
here  without  spilling  a  drop." 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      249 

She  stiffened  slightly  under  this  remark, 
and  indeed  so  far  overdid  her  attempt  to 
walk  without  his  aid,  that  her  foot  slipped 
on  a  stone,  and  she  fell  outward  toward  the 
abyss.  But  in  an  instant  his  arm  was  trans 
ferred  from  her  elbow  to  her  waist,  and  in 
the  momentum  of  his  quick  recovery  they 
both  landed  panting  against  the  mountain 
side. 

"I'm  afraid  you'd  have  spilt  the  pail 
that  time,"  she  said,  with  a  slightly  height 
ened  color,  as  she  disengaged  herself  gently 
from  his  arm. 

"  No,"  he  answered  boldly,  "  for  the  pail 
never  would  have  stiffened  itself  in  a  tiff, 
and  tried  to  go  alone." 

tk  Of  course  not,  if  it  were  only  a  pail," 
she  responded. 

They  moved  on  again  in  silence.  The 
trail  was  growing  a  little  steeper  toward  the 
upper  end  and  the  road  bank.  Bray  was 
often  himself  obliged  to  seek  the  friendly 
aid  of  a  manzanita  or  thornbush  to  support 
them.  Suddenly  she  stopped  and  caught 
his  arm.  "  There !  "  she  said.  "  Listen  ! 
They  're  coming !  " 

Bray  listened ;  he  could  hear  at  intervals 


250      A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

a  far-off  shout ;  then  a  nearer  one  —  a 
name  —  "  Eugenia."  So  that  was  hers  ! 

"  Shall  I  shout  back?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  yet !  "  she  answered.  "  Are  we 
near  the  top  ?  "  A  sudden  glow  of  pleasure 
came  over  him  —  he  knew  not  why,  except 
that  she  did  not  look  delighted,  excited,  or 
even  relieved. 

"  Only  a  few  yards  more,"  he  said,  with 
an  unaffected  half  sigh. 

"  Then  I  'd  better  untie  this,"  she  sug 
gested,  beginning  to  fumble  at  the  knot  of 
the  handkerchief  which  linked  them. 

Their  heads  were  close  together,  their  fin 
gers  often  met ;  he  would  have  liked  to  say 
something,  but  he  could  only  add :  "  Are 
you  sure  you  will  feel  quite  safe  ?  It  is  a 
little  steeper  as  we  near  the  bank." 

"  You  can  hold  me,"  she  replied  simply, 
with  a  superbly  unconscious  lifting  of  her 
arm,  as  she  yielded  her  waist  to  him  again, 
but  without  raising  her  eyes. 

He  did,  —  holding  her  rather  tightly,  I 
fear,  as  they  clambered  up  the  remaining 
slope,  for  it  seemed  to  him  as  a  last  em 
brace.  As  he  lifted  her  to  the  road  bank, 
the  shouts  came  nearer ;  and  glancing  up,  he 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      251 

saw  two  men  and  a  woman  running  down 
the  hill  toward  them.  He  turned  to  Eu 
genia.  In  that  instant  she  had  slipped  the 
tattered  dust-coat  from  her  shoulder,  thrown 
it  over  her  arm,  set  her  hat  straight,  and  was 
calmly  awaiting  them  with  a  self-possession 
and  coolness  that  seemed  to  shame  their  ex 
citement.  He  noticed,  too,  with  the  quick 
perception  of  unimportant  things  which 
conies  to  some  natures  at  such  moments,  that 
she  had  plucked  a  sprig  of  wild  myrtle  from 
the  mountain  side,  and  was  wearing  it  on 
her  breast. 

"  Goodness  Heavens  !  Genie !  What 
has  happened  !  "Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  Eugenia !  this  is  perfect  madness  !  " 
began  the  elder  man  didactically.  "You 
have  alarmed  us  beyond  measure  —  kept  the 
stage  waiting,  and  now  it  is  gone !  " 

"  Genie !  Look  here,  I  say !  We  've  been 
hunting  for  you  everywhere.  What 's  up  ?  " 
said  the  younger  man,  with  brotherly  brusque- 
ness. 

As  these  questions  were  all  uttered  in  the 
same  breath,  Eugenia  replied  to  them  collec 
tively.  "  It  was  so  hot  that  I  kept  along  the 
bank  here,  while  you  were  on  the  other  side. 


252      A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

I  heard  the  trickle  of  water  somewhere  down 
there,  and  searching  for  it  my  foot  slipped. 
This  gentleman  "  —  she  indicated  Bray  — 
"  was  on  a  little  sort  of  a  trail  there,  and 
assisted  me  back  to  the  road  again." 

The  two  men  and  the  woman  turned  and 
stared  at  Bray  with  a  look  of  curiosity  that 
changed  quickly  into  a  half  contemptuous 
unconcern.  They  saw  a  youngish  sort  of 
man,  with  a  long  mustache,  a  two  days' 
growth  of  beard,  a  not  overclean  face,  that 
was  further  streaked  with  red  on  the  temple, 
a  torn  flannel  shirt,  that  showed  a  very  white 
shoulder  beside  a  sunburnt  throat  and  neck, 
and  soiled  white  trousers  stuck  into  muddy 
high  boots  —  in  fact,  the  picture  of  a  broken- 
down  miner.  But  their  unconcern  was  as 
speedily  changed  again  into  resentment  at 
the  perfect  ease  and  equality  with  which  he 
regarded  them,  —  a  regard  the  more  exasper 
ating  as  it  was  not  without  a  suspicion  of  his 
perception  of  some  satire  or  humor  hi  the 
situation. 

"  Ahem !  very  much  obliged,  I  am  sure. 
I  —  er"- 

"  The  lady  has  thanked  me,"  interrupted 
Bray,  with  a  smile. 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      253 

"  Did  you  fall  far  ?  "  said  the  younger 
man  to  Eugenia,  ignoring  Bray. 

"  Not  far,"  she  answered,  with  a  half  ap 
pealing  look  at  Bray. 

"  Only  a  few  feet,"  added  the  latter,  with 
prompt  mendacity,  "  just  a  little  slip  down." 

The  three  new-comers  here  turned  away, 
and,  surrounding  Eugenia,  conversed  in  an 
undertone.  Quite  conscious  that  he  was  the 
subject  of  discussion,  Bray  lingered  only  in 
the  hope  of  catching  a  parting  glance  from 
Eugenia.  The  words  "  You  do  it,"  "  No, 
you  !  "  "  It  would  come  better  from  her" 
were  distinctly  audible  to  him.  To  his 
surprise,  however,  she  suddenly  broke 
through  them,  and  advancing  to  him,  with 
a  dangerous  brightness  in  her  beautiful 
eyes,  held  out  her  sh'm  hand.  "  My  father, 
Mr.  Neworth,  my  brother,  Harry  Neworth, 
and  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Dobbs,"  she  said,  indicat 
ing  each  one  with  a  graceful  inclination  of 
her  handsome  head,  "all  think  I  ought  to 
give  you  something  and  send  you  away.  I 
believe  that  is  the  way  they  put  it.  I  think 
differently !  I  come  to  ask  you  to  let  me 
once  more  thank  you  for  your  good  service 
to  me  to-day  —  which  I  shall  never  forget." 


254      A  JACK   AND  JILL    OF   THE   SIEXRAS 

When  he  had  returned  her  firm  handclasp 
for  a  minute,  she  coolly  rejoined  the  discom 
fited  group. 

"  She  's  no  sardine,"  said  Bray  to  himself 
emphatically,  "  but  I  suspect  she  '11  catch  it 
from  her  folks  for  this.  I  ought  to  have 
gone  away  at  once,  like  a  gentleman,  hang 
it!" 

He  was  even  angrily  debating  with  him 
self  whether  he  ought  not  to  follow  her  to 
protect  her  from  her  gesticulating  relations  as 
they  all  trailed  up  the  hill  with  her,  when  he 
reflected  that  it  would  only  make  matters 
worse.  And  with  it  came  the  dreadful  re 
flection  that  as  yet  he  had  not  carried  the 
water  to  his  expecting  and  thirsty  comrades. 
He  had  forgotten  them  for  these  lazy,  snob 
bish,  purse-proud  San  Franciscans  —  for 
Bray  had  the  miner's  supreme  contempt  for 
the  moneyed  trading  classes.  What  would 
the  boys  think  of  him !  He  flung  himself 
over  the  bank,  and  hastened  recklessly  down 
the  trail  to  the  spring.  But  here  again  he 
lingered  —  the  place  had  become  suddenly 
hallowed.  How  deserted  it  looked  without 
her !  He  gazed  eagerly  around  on  the  ledge 
for  any  trace  that  she  had  left  —  a  bow,  a 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      255 

bit  of  ribbon,  or  even  a  hairpin  that  had 
fallen  from  her. 

As  the  young  man  slowly  filled  the  pail 
he  caught  sight  of  his  own  reflection  in  the 
spring.  It  certainly  was  not  that  of  an 
Adonis  !  He  laughed  honestly  ;  his  sense 
of  humor  had  saved  him  from  many  an  ex 
travagance,  and  mitigated  many  a  disap 
pointment  before  this.  Well !  She  was  a 
plucky,  handsome  girl  —  even  if  she  was  not 
for  him,  and  he  might  never  set  eyes  on  her 
again.  Yet  it  was  a  hard  pull  up  that  trail 
once  more,  carrying  an  insensible  pail  of 
water  in  the  hand  that  had  once  sustained 
a  lovely  girl!  He  remembered  her  reply 
to  his  badinage,  "  Of  course  not  — if  it  were 
only  a  pail,"  and  found  a  dozen  pretty  inter 
pretations  of  it.  Yet  he  was  not  in  love ! 
No !  He  was  too  poor  and  too  level  headed 
for  that!  And  he  was  unaffectedly  and 
materially  tired,  too,  when  he  reached  the 
road  again,  and  rested,  leaving  the  spring 
and  its  little  idyl  behind. 

By  this  tune  the  sun  had  left  the  burning 
ledge  of  the  Eureka  Company,  and  the  stage 
road  was  also  in  shadow,  so  that  his  return 
through  its  heavy  dust  was  less  difficult. 


256      A  JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

And  when  he  at  last  reached  the  camp,  he 
found  to  his  relief  that  his  prolonged  absence 
had  been  overlooked  by  his  thirsty  compan 
ions  in  a  larger  excitement  and  disappoint 
ment  ;  for  it  appeared  that  a  well-known 
San  Francisco  capitalist,  whom  the  foreman 
had  persuaded  to  visit  their  claim  with  a 
view  to  advance  and  investment,  had  actually 
come  over  from  Red  Dog  for  that  purpose, 
and  had  got  as  far  as  the  summit  when  he 
was  stopped  by  an  accident,  and  delayed  so 
long  that  he  was  obliged  to  go  on  to  Sacra 
mento  without  making  his  examination. 

"  That  was  only  his  excuse  —  mere  flap 
doodle  !  "  interrupted  the  pessimistic  Jerrold. 
"  He  was  foolin'  you ;  he  'd  heard  of  suthin 
better !  The  idea  of  calling  that  affair  an 
'  accident,'  or  one  that  would  stop  any  man 
who  meant  business  !  " 

Bray  had  become  uneasily  conscious. 
"What  was  the  accident?"  he  asked. 

"  A  d — d  fool  woman's  accident,"  broke 
in  the  misogynist  Parkhurst,  "  and  it 's  true  ! 
That 's  what  makes  it  so  cussed  mean.  For 
there 's  allus  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  such 
things  —  bet  your  life  !  Think  of  'em  corn- 
in'  here.  Thar  ought  to  be  a  law  agin  it." 


A  JACK   AND   JILL    OF    THE   SIERRAS      257 

"  But  what  was  it  ?  "  persisted  Bray,  be 
coming  more  apprehensive. 

"  Why,  what  does  that  blasted  fool  of  a 
capitalist  do  but  bring  with  him  his  daugh 
ter  and  auntie  to  '  see  the  wonderful  scenery 
with  popa  dear  ! '  as  if  it  was  a  cheap  Sun 
day-school  panorama !  And  what  do  these 
chuckle-headed  women  do  but  get  off  the 
coach  and  go  to  wanderin'  about,  and  playin' 
4  here  we  go  round  the  mulberry  bush '  until 
one  of  'em  tumbles  down  a  ravine.  And 
then  there  's  a  great  to  do !  and  '  dear  popa ' 
was  up  and  down  the  road  yellin'  '  Me 
cheyld  !  me  cheyld  ! '  And  then  there  was 
camphor  and  sal  volatile  and  eau  de  cologne 
to  be  got,  and  the  coach  goes  off,  and  '  popa 
dear '  gets  left,  and  then  has  to  hurry  off 
in  a  buggy  to  catch  it.  So  we  get  left  too, 
just  because  that  God-forsaken  fool,  Xeworth, 
brings  his  women  here." 

Under  this  recital  poor  Bray  sat  as  com 
pletely  crushed  as  when  the  fair  daughter  of 
Neworth  had  descended  upon  his  shoulders 
at  the  spring.  He  saw  it  all !  His  was  the 
fault.  It  was  his  delay  and  dalliance  with 
her  that  had  checked  Ne worth's  visit ;  worse 
than  that,  it  was  his  subsequent  audacity  and 


258      A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF    THE   SIERRAS 

her  defense  of  him  that  would  probably  pre 
vent  any  renewal  of  the  negotiations.  He 
had  shipwrecked  his  partners'  prospects  in 
his  absurd  vanity  and  pride !  He  did  not 
dare  to  raise  his  eyes  to  their  dejected  faces. 
He  would  have  confessed  everything  to  them, 
but  the  same  feeling  of  delicacy  for  her  which 
had  determined  him  to  keep  her  adventures 
to  himself  now  forever  sealed  his  lips.  How 
might  they  not  misconstrue  his  conduct  — 
and  hers  !  Perhaps  something  of  this  was 
visible  in  his  face. 

"  Come,  old  man,"  said  the  cheerful  mis 
ogynist,  with  perfect  innocence,  "  don't  take 
it  so  hard.  Some  time  in  a  man's  life  a 
woman's  sure  to  get  the  drop  on  him,  as 
I  said  afore,  and  this  yer  woman's  got  the 
drop  on  five  of  us !  But  —  hallo,  Ned,  old 
man  — what 's  the  matter  with  your  head?  " 
He  laid  his  hand  gently  on  the  matted  tem 
ple  of  his  younger  partner. 

"  I  had  —  a  slip —  on  the  trail,"  he  stam 
mered.  "  Had  to  go  back  again  for  another 
pailful.  That 's  what  delayed  me,  you  know, 
boys,"  he  added.  "  But  it  's  nothing !  " 

"  Nothing  !  "  ejaculated  Parkhurst,  clap 
ping  him  on  the  back  and  twisting  him 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      259 

around  by  the  shoulders  so  that  he  faced  his 
companions.  "  Nothing !  Look  at  him,  gen 
tlemen  ;  and  he  says  it 's  4  nothing.'  That 's 
how  a  man  takes  it !  He  did  n't  go  round 
yellin'  and  wringin'  his  hands  and  sayin' 
'  Me  pay-1 !  me  pay-1 ! '  when  it  spilt !  He 
just  humped  himself  and  trotted  back  for 
another.  And  yet  every  drop  of  water  in 
that  overset  bucket  meant  hard  work  and 
hard  sweat,  and  was  as  precious  as  gold." 

Luckily  for  Bray,  whose  mingled  emotions 
under  Parkhurst's  eloquence  were  beginning 
to  be  hysterical,  the  foreman  interrupted. 

"  Well,  boys !  it 's  time  we  got  to  work 
again,  and  took  another  heave  at  the  old 
ledge !  But  now  that  this  job  of  Neworth's 
is  over  —  I  don't  mind  tellin'  ye  suthin." 
As  their  leader  usually  spoke  but  little,  and 
to  the  point,  the  four  men  gathered  around 
him.  "Although  I  engineered  this  affair, 
and  got  it  up,  somehow,  I  never  saw  that 
Ne  worth  standing  on  this  ledge  I  No,  boys  ! 
I  never  saw  him  here"  The  look  of  super 
stition  which  Bray  and  the  others  had  often 
seen  on  this  old  miner's  face,  and  which  so 
often  showed  itself  in  his  acts,  was  there. 
"  And  though  I  wanted  him  to  come,  and 


260      A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

allowed  to  have  him  come,  I  'm  kinder  re 
lieved  that  he  did  n't,  and  so  let  whatsoever 
luck  's  in  the  air  come  to  us  five  alone,  boys, 
just  as  we  stand." 

The  next  morning  Bray  was  up  before 
his  companions,  and  although  it  was  not  his 
turn,  offered  to  bring  water  from  the  spring. 
He  was  not  in  love  with  Eugenia —  he  had 
not  forgotten  his  remorse  of  the  previous 
day  —  but  he  would  like  to  go  there  once 
more  before  he  relentlessly  wiped  out  her 
image  from  his  mind.  And  he  had  heard 
that  although  Neworth  had  gone  on  to  Sac 
ramento,  his  son  and  the  two  ladies  had 
stopped  on  for  a  day  or  two  at  the  ditch 
superintendent's  house  on  the  summit,  only 
two  miles  away.  She  might  pass  on  the 
road ;  he  might  get  a  glimpse  of  her  again 
and  a  wave  of  her  hand  before  this  thing- 
was  over  forever,  and  he  should  have  to 
take  up  the  daily  routine  of  his  work  again. 
It  was  not  love  —  of  that  he  was  assured 
—  but  it  was  the  way  to  stop  it  by  convin 
cing  himself  of  its  madness.  Besides,  in  view 
of  all  the  circumstances,  it  was  his  duty  as 
a  gentleman  to  show  some  concern  for  her 
condition  after  the  accident  and  the  dis 
agreeable  contretemps  which  followed  it. 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF    THE    SIERRAS      261 

Thus  Bray !  Alas,  none  of  these  possibil 
ities  occurred.  He  found  the  spring  had 
simply  lapsed  into  its  previous  unsuggestive 
obscurity,  —  a  mere  niche  in  the  mountain 
side  that  held  only  —  water !  The  stage 
road  was  deserted  save  for  an  early,  curly- 
headed  schoolboy,  whom  he  found  lurking  on 
the  bank,  but  who  evaded  his  company  and 
conversation.  He  returned  to  the  camp 
quite  cured  of  his  fancy.  His  late  zeal  as  a 
water-carrier  had  earned  him  a  day  or  two's 
exemption  from  that  duty.  His  place  was 
taken  the  next  afternoon  by  the  woman-hat 
ing  Parkhurst,  and  he  was  the  less  concerned 
by  it  as  he  had  heard  that  the  same  after 
noon  the  ladies  were  to  leave  the  summit  for 
Sacramento. 

But  then  occurred  a  singular  coincidence. 
The  new  water-bringer  was  as  scandalously 
late  in  his  delivery  of  the  precious  fluid  as 
his  predecessor  !  An  hour  passed  and  he 
did  not  return.  His  unfortunate  partners, 
toiling  away  with  pick  and  crowbar  on  the 
burning  ledge,  were  clamorous  from  thirst, 
and  Bray  was  becoming  absurdly  uneasy. 
It  could  not  be  possible  that  Eugenia's 
accident  had  been  repeated !  Or  had  she 


262      A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

met  him  with  inquiries  ?  But  no !  she  was 
already  gone.  The  mystery  was  presently 
cleared,  however,  by  the  abrupt  appearance 
of  Parkhurst  running  towards  them,  but 
without  Ms  pail !  The  cry  of  consternation 
and  despair  which  greeted  that  discovery 
was,  however,  quickly  changed  by  a  single 
breathless,  half  intelligible  sentence  he  had 
shot  before  him  from  his  panting  lips.  And 
he  was  holding  something  in  his  outstretched 
palm  that  was  more  eloquent  than  words. 
Gold! 

In  an  instant  they  had  him  under  the 
shade  of  the  pine-tree,  and  were  squatting 
round  him  like  schoolboys.  He  was  pro 
foundly  agitated.  His  story,  far  from  be 
ing  brief,  was  incoherent  and  at  times 
seemed  irrelevant,  but  that  was  charac 
teristic.  They  would  remember  that  he  had 
always  held  the  theory  that,  even  in  quartz 
mining,  the  deposits  were  always  found  near 
water,  past  or  present,  with  signs  of  fluvial 
erosion !  He  did  n't  call  himself  one  of  your 
blanked  scientific  miners,  but  his  head  was 
level!  It  was  all  very  well  for  them  to 
say  "  Yes,  yes !  "  now,  but  they  did  n't  use 
to !  Well !  when  he  got  to  the  spring,  he 


A   JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      263 

noticed  that  there  had  been  a  kind  of  land 
slide  above  it,  of  course,  from  water  cleav 
age,  and  there  was  a  distinct  mark  of  it  on 
the  mountain  side,  where  it  had  uprooted 
and  thrown  over  some  small  bushes ! 

Excited  as  Bray  was,  he  recognized  with 
a  hysterical  sensation  the  track  made  by 
Eugenia  in  her  fall,  which  he  himself  had 
noticed.  But  he  had  thought  only  of  her. 

"  When  I  saw  that,"  continued  Parkhurst, 
more  rapidly  and  coherently,  "  I  saw  that 
there  was  a  crack  above  the  hole  where 
the  water  came  through  —  as  if  it  had  been 
the  old  channel  of  the  spring.  I  widened 
it  a  little  with  my  clasp  knife,  and  then  — 
in  a  little  pouch  or  pocket  of  decomposed 
quartz  —  I  found  that !  Not  only  that, 
boys,"  he  continued,  rising,  with  a  shout, 
"  but  the  whole  slope  above  the  spring  is  a 
mass  of  seepage  underneath,  as  if  you'd 
played  a  hydraulic  hose  on  it,  and  it 's  ready 
to  tumble  and  is  just  rotten  with  quartz ! " 

The  men  leaped  to  their  feet ;  in  another 
moment  they  had  snatched  picks,  pans,  and 
shovels,  and,  the  foreman  leading,  with  a 
coil  of  rope  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  were 
all  flying  down  the  trail  to  the  highway. 


264      A  JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

Their  haste  was  wise.  The  spring  was  not 
on  their  claim ;  it  was  known  to  others ; 
it  was  doubtful  if  Parkhurst's  discovery  with 
his  knife  amounted  to  actual  work  on  the 
soil.  They  must  "  take  it  up  "  with  a  for 
mal  notice,  and  get  to  work  at  once  ! 

In  an  hour  they  were  scattered  over  the 
mountain  side,  like  bees  clinging  to  the  fra 
grant  slope  of  laurel  and  myrtle  above  the 
spring.  An  excavation  was  made  beside  it, 
and  the  ledge  broadened  by  a  dozen  feet. 
Even  the  spring  itself  was  utilized  to  wash 
the  hastily  filled  prospecting  pans.  And 
when  the  Pioneer  Coach  slowly  toiled  up 
the  road  that  afternoon,  the  passengers 
stared  at  the  scarcely  dry  "  Notice  of  Loca 
tion  "  pinned  to  the  pine  by  the  road  bank, 
whence  Eugenia  had  fallen  two  days  be 
fore  ! 

Eagerly  and  anxiously  as  Edward  Bray 
worked  with  his  companions,  it  was  with 
more  conflicting  feelings.  There  was  a  cer 
tain  sense  of  desecration  in  their  act.  How 
her  proud  lip  would  have  curled  had  she 
seen  him  —  he  who  but  a  few  hours  before 
would  have  searched  the  whole  slope  for  the 
treasure  of  a  ribbon,  a  handkerchief,  or  a 


A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      265 

bow  from  her  dress  —  now  delving  and  pick 
ing  the  hillside  for  that  fortune  her  accident 
had  so  mysteriously  disclosed.  Mysteriously 
he  believed,  for  he  had  not  fully  accepted 
Parkhurst's  story.  That  gentle  misogynist 
had  never  been  an  active  prospector ;  an 
inclination  to  theorize  without  practice  and 
to  combat  his  partners'  experience  were  all 
against  his  alleged  process  of  discovery, 
although  the  gold  was  actually  there ;  and 
his  conduct  that  afternoon  was  certainly 
peculiar.  He  did  but  little  of  the  real 
work ;  but  wandered  from  man  to  man, 
with  suggestions,  advice,  and  exhortations, 
and  the  air  of  a  superior  patron.  This 
might  have  been  characteristic,  but  mingled 
with  it  was  a  certain  nervous  anxiety  and 
watchfulness.  He  was  continually  scanning 
the  stage  road  and  the  trail,  staring  eagerly 
at  any  wayfarer  in  the  distance,  and  at 
times  falling  into  fits  of  strange  abstraction. 
At  other  times  he  would  draw  near  to  one 
of  his  fellow  partners,  as  if  for  confidential 
disclosure,  and  then  check  himself  and  wan 
der  aimlessly  away.  And  it  was  not  until 
evening  came  that  the  mystery  was  solved. 
The  prospecting  pans  had  been  duly 


266      A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   S IE ERAS 

washed  and  examined,  the  slope  above  and 
below  had  been  fully  explored  and  tested, 
with  a  result  and  promise  that  outran  their 
most  sanguine  hopes.  There  was  no  mis 
taking  the  fact  that  they  had  made  a  "  big  " 
strike.  That  singular  gravity  and  reticence, 
so  often  observed  in  miners  at  these  crises, 
had  come  over  them  as  they  sat  that  night 
for  the  last  time  around  their  old  camp-fire 
on  the  Eureka  ledge,  when  Parkhurst  turned 
impulsively  to  Bray.  "  Roll  over  here,"  he 
said  in  a  whisper.  "I  want  to  tell  ye 
suthin !  " 

Bray  "  rolled  "  beyond  the  squatting  circle, 
and  the  two  men  gradually  edged  themselves 
out  of  hearing  of  the  others.  In  the  silent 
abstraction  that  prevailed  nobody  noticed 
them. 

44  It 's  got  suthin  to  do  with  this  dis 
covery,"  said  Parkhurst,  in  a  low,  mysterious 
tone,  "  but  as  far  as  the  gold  goes,  and  our 
equal  rights  to  it  as  partners,  it  don't 
affect  them.  If  I,"  he  continued  in  a  slightly 
patronizing,  paternal  tone,  "  choose  to  make 
you  and  the  other  boys  sharers  in  what  seems 
to  be  a  special  Providence  to  me,  I  reckon 
we  won't  quarrel  on  it.  It 's  a  mighty  curi- 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      267 

ous,  singular  thing.  It 's  one  of  those  things 
ye  read  about  in  books  and  don't  take  any 
stock  in!  But  we've  got  the  gold  —  and 
I  've  got  the  black  and  white  to  prove  it  — 
even  if  it  ain't  exactly  human." 

His  voice  sank  so  low,  his  manner  was 
so  impressive,  that  despite  his  known  exag 
geration,  Bray  felt  a  slight  thrill  of  su 
perstition.  Meantime  Parkhurst  wiped  his 
brow,  took  a  folded  slip  of  paper  and  a  sprig 
of  laurel  from  his  pocket,  and  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"When  I  got  to  the  spring  this  after 
noon,"  he  went  on,  in  a  nervous,  tremulous, 
and  scarcely  audible  voice,  "  I  saw  this  bit 
o'  paper,  folded  note-wise,  lyin'  on  the  ledge 
before  it.  On  top  of  it  was  this  sprig  of 
laurel,  to  catch  the  eye.  I  ain't  the  man  to 
pry  into  other  folks'  secrets,  or  read  what 
ain't  mine.  But  on  the  back  o'  this  note 
was  written  4  To  Jack  ! '  It 's  a  common 
enough  name,  but  it 's  a  singular  thing,  ef 
you  '11  recollect,  thar  ain't  another  Jack  in 
this  company,  not  on  the  whole  ridge  betwixt 
this  and  the  summit,  except  myself!  So  I 
opened  it,  and  this  is  what  it  read !  "  He 
held  the  paper  sideways  toward  the  leaping 


268      A  JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

light  of  the  still  near  camp-fire,  and  read 
slowly,  with  the  emphasis  of  having  read  it 
many  times  before. 

"  4 1  want  you  to  believe  that  /,  at  least, 
respect  and  honor  your  honest,  manly  calling, 
and  when  you  strike  it  rich,  as  you  surely 
will,  I  hope  you  will  sometimes  think  of 
Jill.'  " 

In  the  thrill  of  joy,  hope,  and  fear  that 
came  over  Bray,  he  could  see  that  Parkhurst 
had  not  only  failed  to  detect  his  secret, 
but  had  not  even  connected  the  two  names 
with  their  obvious  suggestion.  "  But  do 
you  know  anybody  named  Jill?"  he  asked 
breathlessly. 

"  It 's  no  name"  said  Parkhurst  in  a 
sombre  voice,  "  it 's  a  thing  !  " 

"  A  thing?  "  repeated  Bray,  bewildered. 

"  Yes,  a  measure  —  you  know  —  two 
fingers  of  whiskey." 

"  Oh,  a  « gill,'  "  said  Bray. 

"  That 's  what  I  said,  young  man,"  re 
turned  Parkhurst  gravely. 

Bray  choked  back  a  hysterical  laugh ; 
spelling  was  notoriously  not  one  of  Park- 
hurst's  strong  points.  "But  what  has  a 
4  gill '  got  to  do  with  it  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 


A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE   SIEKRAS      269 

"  It 's  one  of  them  Sphinx  things,  don't 
you  see  ?  A  sort  of  riddle  or  rebus,  you 
know.  You  've  got  to  study  it  out,  as  them 
old  chaps  did.  But  I  fetched  it.  What 
comes  after  «  gills,'  eh  ?  " 

"  Pints,  I  suppose,"  said  Bray. 

"  And  after  pints  ?  " 

"  Quarts." 

"  Quartz,  and  there  you  are.  So  I  looked 
about  me  for  quartz,  and  sure  enough  struck 
it  the  first  pop." 

Bray  cast  a  quick  look  at  Parkhurst's 
grave  face.  The  man  was  evidently  im 
pressed  and  sincere.  "  Have  you  told  this 
to  any  one  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"No." 

"  Then  don't !  or  you  '11  spoil  the  charm, 
and  bring  us  ill  luck  !  That 's  the  rule,  you 
know.  I  really  don't  know  that  you  ought 
to  have  told  me,"  added  the  artful  Bray, 
dissembling  his  intense  joy  at  this  proof  of 
Eugenia's  remembrance. 

"  But,"  said  Parkhurst  blankly,  "  you  see, 
old  man,  you  'd  been  the  last  man  at  the 
spriug,  and  I  kinder  thought  "  — 

"  Don't  think,"  said  Bray  promptly,  "  and 
above  all,  don't  talk  ;  not  a  word  to  the  boys 


270      A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

of  this.  Stay  !  Give  me  the  paper  and  the 
sprig.  I  Ve  got  to  go  to  San  Francisco 
next  week,  and  I  '11  take  care  of  it  and 
think  it  out !  "  He  knew  that  Parkhurst 
might  be  tempted  to  talk,  but  without  the 
paper  his  story  would  be  treated  lightly. 
Parkhurst  handed  him  the  paper,  and  the 
two  men  returned  to  the  camp-fire. 

That  night  Bray  slept  but  little.  The 
superstition  of  the  lover  is  no  less  keen  than 
that  of  the  gambler,  and  Bray,  while  laugh 
ing  at  Parkhurst's  extravagant  fancy,  I  am 
afraid  was  equally  inclined  to  believe  that 
their  good  fortune  came  through  Eugenia's 
influence.  At  least  he  should  tell  her  so, 
and  her  precious  note  became  now  an  invita 
tion  as  well  as  an  excuse  for  seeking  her. 
The  only  fear  that  possessed  him  was  that 
she  might  have  expected  some  acknowledg 
ment  of  her  note  before  she  left  that  after 
noon  ;  the  only  thing  he  could  not  under 
stand  was  how  she  had  managed  to  convey 
the  note  to  the  spring,  for  she  could  not 
have  taken  it  herself.  But  this  would  doubt 
less  be  explained  by  her  in  San  Francisco, 
whither  he  intended  to  seek  her.  His  affairs, 
the  purchasing  of  machinery  for  their  new 


A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE  SIERRAS      271 

claim,  would  no  doubt  give  him  easy  access 
to  her  father. 

But  it  was  one  thing  to  imagine  this  while 
procuring  a  new  and  fashionable  outfit  in 
San  Francisco,  and  quite  another  to  stand 
before  the  "  palatial "  residence  of  the  Xew- 
orths  on  Rincon  Hill,  with  the  consciousness 
of  no  other  introduction  than  the  memory 
of  the  Xeworths'  discourtesy  on  the  moun 
tain,  and,  even  in  his  fine  feathers,  Bray 
hesitated.  At  this  moment  a  carriage  rolled 
up  to  the  door,  and  Eugenia,  an  adorable 
vision  of  laces  and  silks,  alighted. 

Forgetting  everything  else,  he  advanced 
toward  her  with  outstretched  hand.  He 
saw  her  start,  a  faint  color  come  into  her 
face ;  he  knew  he  was  recognized ;  but  she 
stiffened  quickly  again,  the  color  vanished, 
her  beautiful  gray  eyes  rested  coldly  on  him 
for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  the  faintest 
inclination  of  her  proud  head,  she  swept  by 
him  and  entered  the  house. 

But  Bray,  though  shocked,  was  not 
daunted,  and  perhaps  his  own  pride  was 
awakened.  He  ran  to  his  hotel,  summoned 
a  messenger,  inclosed  her  note  in  an  envelope, 
and  added  these  lines  :  — 


272      A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

DEAR  Miss  NEWORTH,  —  I  only  wanted 
to  thank  you  an  hour  ago,  as  I  should  like  to 
have  done  before,  for  the  kind  note  which  I 
inclose,  but  which  you  have  made  me  feel  I 
have  no  right  to  treasure  any  longer,  and  to 
tell  you  that  your  most  generous  wish  and 
prophecy  has  been  more  than  fulfilled. 
Yours,  very  gratefully, 

EDMUND  BRAY. 

Within  the  hour  the  messenger  returned 
with  the  still  briefer  reply :  — 

"  Miss  Neworth  has  been  fully  aware  of 
that  preoccupation  with  his  good  fortune 
which  prevented  Mr.  Bray  from  an  earlier 
acknowledgment  of  her  foolish  note." 

Cold  as  this  response  was,  Bray's  heart 
leaped.  She  had  lingered  on  the  summit, 
and  had  expected  a  reply.  He  seized  his 
hat,  and,  jumping  into  the  first  cab  at  the 
hotel  door,  drove  rapidly  back  to  the  house. 
He  had  but  one  idea,  to  see  her  at  any  cost, 
but  one  concern,  to  avoid  a  meeting  with 
her  father  first,  or  a  denial  at  her  very  door. 

He  dismissed  the  cab  at  the  street  corner 
and  began  to  reconnoitre  the  house.  It  had 
a  large  garden  in  the  rear,  reclaimed  from 


A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS      273 

the  adjacent  "  scrub  oak  "  infested  sand  hill, 
and  protected  by  a  high  wall.  If  he  could 
scale  that  wall,  he  could  command  the  pre 
mises.  It  was  a  bright  morning ;  she  might 
be  tempted  into  the  garden.  A  taller  scrub 
oak  grew  near  the  wall ;  to  the  mountain- 
bred  Bray  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  swing 
himself  from  it  to  the  wall,  and  he  did. 
But  his  momentum  was  so  great  that  he 
touched  the  wall  only  to  be  obliged  to  leap 
down  into  the  garden  to  save  himself  from 
falling  there.  He  heard  a  little  cry,  felt 
his  feet  strike  some  tin  utensil,  and  rolled 
on  the  ground  beside  Eugenia  and  her  over 
turned  watering-pot. 

They  both  struggled  to  their  feet  with 
an  astonishment  that  turned  to  laughter  in 
their  eyes  and  the  same  thought  in  the 
minds  of  each. 

"  But  we  are  not  on  the  mountains  now, 
Mr.  Bray,"  said  Eugenia,  taking  her  hand 
kerchief  at  last  from  her  sobering  face  and 
straightening  eyebrows. 

"  But  we  are  quits,"  said  Bray.  "  And 
you  now  know  my  real  name.  I  only  came 
here  to  tell  you  why  I  could  not  answer 
your  letter  the  same  day.  I  never  got  it  — 


274      A  JACK  AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

I  mean,"  he  added  hurriedly,  "  another  man 
got  it  first." 

She  threw  up  her  head,  and  her  face 
grew  pale.  "  Another  man  got  it,"  she  re 
peated,  "  and  you  let  another  man  "  — 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  Bray  imploringly. 
"  You  don't  understand.  One  of  my  part 
ners  went  to  the  spring  that  afternoon,  and 
found  it ;  but  he  neither  knows  who  sent  it, 
nor  for  whom  it  was  intended."  He  hastily 
recounted  Parkhurst's  story,  his  mysterious 
belief,  and  his  interpretation  of  the  note. 
The  color  came  back  to  her  face  and  the 
smile  to  her  lips  and  eyes.  "  I  had  gone 
twice  to  the  spring  after  I  saw  you,  but  I 
could  n't  bear  its  deserted  look  without  you," 
he  added  boldly.  Here,  seeing  her  face  grew 
grave  again,  he  added,  "  But  how  did  you 
get  the  letter  to  the  spring  ?  and  how  did 
you  know  that  it  was  found  that  day  ?  " 

It  was  her  turn  to  look  embarrassed  and 
entreating,  but  the  combination  was  charm 
ing  in  her  proud  face.  "I  got  the  little 
schoolboy  at  the  summit,"  she  said,  with 
girlish  hesitation,  "  to  take  the  note.  He 
knew  the  spring,  but  he  did  n't  know  you. 
I  told  him  —  it  was  very  foolish,  I  know  — 


A  JACK  AND  JILL    OF   THE  SIERRAS      275 

to  wait  until  you  came  for  water,  to  be  cer 
tain  that  you  got  the  note,  to  wait  until  you 
came  up,  for  I  thought  you  might  question 
him,  or  give  him  some  word."  Her  face 
was  quite  rosy  now.  "  But,"  she  added, 
and  her  lip  took  a  divine  pout,  "  he  said  he 
waited  two  hours  ;  that  you  never  took  the 
least  concern  of  the  letter  or  him,  but  went 
around  the  mountain  side,  peering  and  pick 
ing  in  every  hole  and  corner  of  it,  and  then 
he  got  tired  and  ran  away.  Of  course  I 
understand  it  now,  it  was  n't  you  ;  but  oh, 
please ;  I  beg  you,  Mr.  Bray,  don't !  " 

Bray  released  the  little  hand  which  he 
had  impulsively  caught,  and  which  had  al 
lowed  itself  to  be  detained  for  a  blissful 
moment. 

"  And  now,  don't  you  think,  Mr.  Bray," 
she  added  demurely,  "  that  you  had  better 
let  me  fill  my  pail  again  while  you  go  round 
to  the  front  door  and  call  upon  me  properly  ?  " 

"  But  your  father  "  — 

"My  father,  as  a  well-known  investor, 
regrets  exceedingly  that  he  did  not  make 
your  acquaintance  more  thoroughly  in  his 
late  brief  interview.  He  is,  as  your  fore 
man  knows,  exceedingly  interested  in  the 


276      A   JACK   AND   JILL    OF   THE   SIERRAS 

mines  on  Eureka  ledge.  He  will  be  glad 
if  you  will  call."  She  led  him  to  a  little 
door  in  the  wall,  which  she  unbolted.  "  And 
now  4  Jill '  must  say  good-by  to  4  Jack,'  for 
she  must  make  herself  ready  to  receive  a 
Mr.  Bray  who  is  expected." 

And  when  Bray  a  little  later  called  at  the 
front  door,  he  was  respectfully  announced. 
He  called  another  day,  and  many  days  after. 
He  came  frequently  to  San  Francisco,  and 
one  day  did  not  return  to  his  old  partners. 
He  had  entered  into  a  new  partnership  with 
one  who  he  declared  "had  made  the  first 
strike  on  Eureka  mountain." 


MR.   BILSON'S    HOUSEKEEPER 


WHEN  Joshua  Bilson,  of  the  Summit 
House,  Buckeye  Hill,  lost  his  wife,  it  became 
necessary  for  him  to  take  a  housekeeper  to 
assist  him  in  the  management  of  the  hotel. 
Already  all  Buckeye  had  considered  this  a 
mere  preliminary  to  taking  another  wife, 
after  a  decent  probation,  as  the  relations 
of  housekeeper  and  landlord  were  confidential 
and  delicate,  and  Bilson  was  a  man,  and  not 
above  female  influence.  There  was,  however, 
some  change  of  opinion  on  that  point  when 
Miss  Euphemia  Trotter  was  engaged  for 
that  position.  Buckeye  Hill,  which  had 
confidently  looked  forward  to  a  buxom  widow 
or,  with  equal  confidence,  to  the  promotion 
of  some  pretty  but  inefficient  chambermaid, 
was  startled  by  the  selection  of  a  maiden 
lady  of  middle  age,  and  above  the  medium 
height,  at  once  serious,  precise,  and  mas 
terful,  and  to  all  appearances  outrageously 


278        MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

competent.  More  carefully  "  taking  stock  " 
of  her,  it  was  accepted  she  had  three  good 
points,  —  dark,  serious  eyes,  a  trim  but  some 
what  thin  figure,  and  well-kept  hands  and 
feet.  These,  which  in  so  susceptible  a  com 
munity  would  have  been  enough,  in  the 
words  of  one  critic,  "  to  have  married  her  to 
three  men,"  she  seemed  to  make  of  little 
account  herself,  and  her  attitude  toward 
those  who  were  inclined  to  make  them  of 
account  was  ceremonious  and  frigid.  In 
deed,  she  seemed  to  occupy  herself  entirely 
with  looking  after  the  servants,  Chinese  and 
Europeans,  examining  the  bills  and  stores  of 
traders  and  shopkeepers,  in  a  fashion  that 
made  her  respected  and  —  feared.  It  was 
whispered,  in  fact,  that  Bilson  stood  in  awe 
of  her  as  he  never  had  of  his  wife,  and  that 
he  was  "  henpecked  in  his  own  farmyard  by 
a  strange  pullet." 

Nevertheless,  he  always  spoke  of  her  with 
a  respect  and  even  a  reverence  that  seemed 
incompatible  with  their  relative  positions. 
It  gave  rise  to  surmises  more  or  less  ingenious 
and  conflicting :  Miss  Trotter  had  a  secret 
interest  in  the  hotel,  and  represented  a  San 
Francisco  syndicate ;  Miss  Trotter  was  a 


MR.  BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         279 

woman  of  independent  property,  and  had 
advanced  large  sums  to  Bilson  ;  Miss  Trotter 
was  a  woman  of  no  property,  but  she  was 
the  only  daughter  of  —  variously  —  a  late 
distinguished  nobleman,  a  ruined  millionaire, 
and  a  foreign  statesman,  bent  on  making  her 
own  living. 

Alas,  for  romance !  Miss  Euphemia  Trot 
ter,  or  "  Miss  E.  Trotter,"  as  she  preferred 
to  sign  herself,  loathing  her  sentimental  pre 
fix,  was  really  a  poor  girl  who  had  been  edu 
cated  in  an  Eastern  seminary,  where  she 
eventually  became  a  teacher.  She  had  sur 
vived  her  parents  and  a  neglected  childhood, 
and  had  worked  hard  for  her  living  since 
she  was  fourteen.  She  had  been  a  nurse  in 
a  hospital,  an  assistant  in  a  reformatory, 
had  observed  men  and  women  under  condi 
tions  of  pain  and  weakness,  and  had  known 
the  body  only  as  a  tabernacle  of  helplessness 
and  suffering ;  yet  had  brought  out  of  her 
experience  a  hard  philosophy  which  she  used 
equally  to  herself  as  to  others.  That  she 
had  ever  indulged  in  any  romance  of  human 
existence,  I  greatly  doubt ;  the  lanky  girl 
teacher  at  the  Vermont  academy  had  enough 
to  do  to  push  herself  forward  without  en- 


280          MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

tangling  girl  friendships  or  confidences,  and 
so  became  a  prematurely  hard  duenna,  paid 
to  look  out  for,  restrain,  and  report,  if  ne 
cessary,  any  vagrant  flirtation  or  small  in 
trigue  of  her  companions.  A  pronounced 
"  old  maid  "  at  fifteen,  she  had  nothing  to 
forget  or  forgive  in  others,  and  still  less  to 
learn  from  them. 

It  was  spring,  and  down  the  long  slopes 
of  Buckeye  Hill  the  flowers  were  already 
effacing  the  last  dented  footprints  of  the 
winter  rains,  and  the  winds  no  longer  brought 
their  monotonous  patter.  In  the  pine  woods 
there  were  the  song  and  flash  of  birds,  and 
the  quickening  stimulus  of  the  stirring  aro 
matic  sap.  Miners  and  tunnelmen  were 
already  forsaking  the  direct  road  for  a  ram 
ble  through  the  woodland  trail  and  its  sylvan 
charms,  and  occasionally  breaking  into  shouts 
and  horseplay  like  great  boys.  The  school 
children  were  disporting  there ;  there  were 
some  older  couples  sentimentally  gathering 
flowers  side  by  side.  Miss  Trotter  was  also 
there,  but  making  a  short  cut  from  the  bank 
and  express  office,  and  by  no  means  dis 
turbed  by  any  gentle  reminiscence  of  her 
girlhood  or  any  other  instinctive  participa- 


MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER          281 

tion  in  the  wanton  season.  Spring  came, 
she  knew,  regularly  every  year,  and  brought 
"spring  cleaning"  and  other  necessary 
changes  and  rehabilitations.  This  year  it 
had  brought  also  a  considerable  increase  in 
the  sum  she  was  putting  by,  and  she  was, 
perhaps,  satisfied  in  a  practical  way,  if  not 
with  the  blind  instinctiveness  of  others.  She 
was  walking  leisurely,  holding  her  gray 
skirt  well  over  her  slim  ankles  and  smartly 
booted  feet,  and  clear  of  the  brushing  of 
daisies  and  buttercups,  when  suddenly  she 
stopped.  A  few  paces  before  her,  partly 
concealed  by  a  myrtle,  a  young  woman,  star 
tled  at  her  approach,  had  just  withdrawn 
herself  from  the  embrace  of  a  young  man 
and  slipped  into  the  shadow.  Nevertheless, 
in  that  moment,  Miss  Trotter's  keen  eyes 
had  recognized  her  as  a  very  pretty  Swedish 
girl,  one  of  her  chambermaids  at  the  hotel. 
Miss  Trotter  passed  without  a  word,  but 
gravely.  She  was  not  shocked  nor  surprised, 
but  it  struck  her  practical  mind  at  once  that 
if  this  were  an  affair  with  impending  matri 
mony,  it  meant  the  loss  of  a  valuable  and 
attractive  servant;  if  otherwise,  a  serious 
disturbance  of  that  servant's  duties.  She 


282          MR.   ZILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

must  look  out  for  another  girl  to  take  the 
place  of  Frida  Pauline  Jansen,  that  was  all. 
It  is  possible,  therefore,  that  Miss  Jansen's 
criticism  of  Miss  Trotter  to  her  companion 
as  a  "  spying,  jealous  old  cat "  was  unfair. 
This  companion  Miss  Trotter  had  noticed, 
only  to  observe  that  his  face  and  figure  were 
unfamiliar  to  her.  His  red  shirt  and  heavy 
boots  gave  no  indication  of  his  social  con 
dition  in  that  locality.  He  seemed  more 
startled  and  disturbed  at  her  intrusion  than 
the  girl  had  been,  but  that  was  more  a 
condition  of  sex  than  of  degree,  she  also 
knew.  In  such  circumstances  it  is  the  wo 
man  always  who  is  the  most  composed  and 
self-possessed. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Miss  Trotter  was 
summoned  in  some  haste  to  the  office. 
Chris  Calton,  a  young  man  of  twenty-six, 
partner  in  the  Roanoke  Ledge,  had  frac 
tured  his  arm  and  collar-bone  by  a  fall,  and 
had  been  brought  to  the  hotel  for  that  rest 
and  attention,  under  medical  advice,  which 
he  could  not  procure  in  the  Roanoke  com 
pany's  cabin.  She  had  a  retired,  quiet  room 
made  ready.  When  he  was  installed  there 
by  the  doctor  she  went  to  see  him,  and  found 


MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         283 

a  good-looking,  curly  headed  young  fellow, 
even  boyish  in  appearance  and  manner,  who 
received  her  with  that  air  of  deference  and 
timidity  which  she  was  accustomed  to  excite 
in  the  masculine  breast  —  when  it  was  not 
accompanied  with  distrust.  It  struck  her 
that  he  was  somewhat  emotional,  and  had 
the  expression  of  one  who  had  been  spoiled 
and  petted  by  women,  a  rather  unusual  cir 
cumstance  among  the  men  of  the  locality. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  unfair  to  her  to  say  that 
a  disposition  to  show  him  that  he  could  ex 
pect  no  such  "  nonsense  "  there  sprang  up 
in  her  heart  at  that  moment,  for  she  never 
had  understood  any  tolerance  of  such  weak 
ness,  but  a  certain  precision  and  dryness 
of  manner  was  the  only  result  of  her  obser 
vation.  She  adjusted  his  pillow,  asked  him 
if  there  was  anything  that  he  wanted,  but 
took  her  directions  from  the  doctor,  rather 
than  from  himself,  with  a  practical  insight 
and  minuteness  that  was  as  appalling  to  the 
patient  as  it  was  an  unexpected  delight  to 
Dr.  Duchesne.  "  I  see  you  quite  understand 
me,  Miss  Trotter,"  he  said,  with  great  relief. 
"  I  ought  to,"  responded  the  lady  dryly. 
"  I  had  a  dozen  such  cases,  some  of  them 


284         MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

with  complications,  while  I  was  assistant  at 
the  Sacramento  Hospital." 

"  Ah,  then  !  "  returned  the  doctor,  drop 
ping  gladly  into  purely  professional  detail, 
"  you  '11  see  this  is  very  simple,  not  a  com 
minuted  fracture;  constitution  and  blood 
healthy;  all  you  Ve  to  do 'is  to  see  that  he 
eats  properly,  keeps  free  from  excitement 
and  worry,  but  does  not  get  despondent ;  a 
little  company ;  his  partners  and  some  of 
the  boys  from  the  Ledge  will  drop  in  occa 
sionally  ;  not  too  much  of  them,  you  know ; 
and  of  course,  absolute  immobility  of  the 
injured  parts."  The  lady  nodded  ;  the  pa- 
tieiit  lifted  his  blue  eyes  for  an  instant  to 
hers  with  a  look  of  tentative  appeal,  but  it 
slipped  off  Miss  Trotter's  dark  pupils  — 
which  were  as  abstractedly  critical  as  the 
doctor's  —  without  being  absorbed  by  them. 
When  the  door  closed  behind  her,  the  doc 
tor  exclaimed  :  "  By  Jove !  you  're  in  luck, 
Chris !  That 's  a  splendid  woman  !  Just 
the  one  to  look  after  you !  "  The  patient 
groaned  slightly.  "  Do  what  she  says,  and 
we  '11  pull  you  through  in  no  time.  Why  ! 
she  's  able  to  adjust  those  bandages  herself  !  " 

This,  indeed,  she  did  a  week  later,  when 


MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         285 

the  surgeon  had  failed  to  call,  unveiling 
his  neck  and  arm  with  professional  coolness, 
and  supporting  him  in  her  slim  arms  against 
her  stiff,  erect  buckramed  breast,  while  she 
replaced  the  splines  with  masculine  firmness 
of  touch  and  serene  and  sexless  indifference. 
His  stammered  embarrassed  thanks  at  the 
relief  —  for  he  had  been  in  considerable 
pain  —  she  accepted  with  a  certain  pride  as 
a  tribute  to  her  skill,  a  tribute  which  Dr. 
Duchesne  himself  afterward  fully  indorsed. 

On  reentering  his  room  the  third  or 
fourth  morning  after  his  advent  at  the  Sum 
mit  House,  she  noticed  with  some  concern 
that  there  was  a  slight  flush  on  his  cheek  and 
a  certain  exaltation  which  she  at  first  thought 
presaged  fever.  But  an  examination  of  his 
pulse  and  temperature  dispelled  that  fear, 
and  his  talkativeness  and  good  spirits  con 
vinced  her  that  it  was  only  his  youthful 
vigor  at  last  overcoming  his  despondency. 
A  few  days  later,  this  cheerfulness  not  being 
continued,  Dr.  Duchesne  followed  Miss 
Trotter  into  the  hall.  "  "We  must  try  to 
keep  our  patient  from  moping  in  his  con 
finement,  you  know,"  he  began,  with  a  slight 
smile,  "  and  he  seems  to  be  somewhat  of  an 


286         MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

emotional  nature,  accustomed  to  be  amused 
and  —  er  —  er  —  petted." 

"His  friends  were  here  yesterday,"  re 
turned  Miss  Trotter  dryly,  ubut  I  did  not 
interfere  with  them  until  I  thought  they  had 
stayed  long  enough  to  suit  your  wishes." 

"  I  am  not  referring  to  them,"  said  the 
doctor,  still  smiling;  "  but  you  know  a 
woman's  sympathy  and  presence  in  a  sick 
room  is  often  the  best  of  tonics  or  seda 
tives." 

Miss  Trotter  raised  her  eyes  to  the 
speaker  with  a  half  critical  impatience. 

"  The  fact  is,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "  I  have 
a  favor  to  ask  of  you  for  our  patient.  It 
seems  that  the  other  morning  a  new  cham 
bermaid  waited  upon  him,  whom  he  found 
much  more  gentle  and  sympathetic  in  her 
manner  than  the  others,  and  more  submis 
sive  and  quiet  in  her  ways  —  possibly  be 
cause  she  is  a  foreigner,  and  accustomed  to 
servitude.  I  suppose  you  have  no  objection 
to  her  taking  charge  of  his  room  ?  " 

Miss  Trotter's  cheek  slightly  flushed. 
Not  from  wounded  vanity,  but  from  the 
consciousness  of  some  want  of  acumen  that 
had  made  her  make  a  mistake.  She  had 


MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         287 

really  believed,  from  her  knowledge  of  the 
patient's  character  and  the  doctor's  preamble, 
that  he  wished  her  to  show  some  more  kind 
ness  and  personal  sympathy  to  the  young 
man,  and  had  even  been  prepared  to  ques 
tion  its  utility  !  She  saw  her  blunder  quickly, 
and  at  once  remembering  that  the  pretty 
Swedish  girl  had  one  morning  taken  the 
place  of  an  absent  fellow  servant,  in  the  re 
bound  from  her  error,  she  said  quietly : 
"  You  mean  Frida  !  Certainly  !  she  can  look 
after  his  room,  if  he  prefers  her."  But  for 
her  blunder  she  might  have  added  conscien 
tiously  that  she  thought  the  girl  would  prove 
inefficient,  but  she  did  not.  She  remembered 
the  incident  of  the  wood ;  yet  if  the  girl  had 
a  lover  in  the  wood,  she  could  not  urge  it  as 
a  proof  of  incapacity.  She  gave  the  neces 
sary  orders,  and  the  incident  passed. 

Visiting  the  patient  a  few  days  after 
ward,  she  could  not  help  noticing  a  certain 
shy  gratitude  in  Mr.  Calton's  greeting  of 
her,  which  she  quietly  ignored.  This  forced 
the  ingenuous  Chris  to  more  positive  speech. 
He  dwelt  with  great  simplicity  and  enthu 
siasm  on  the  Swedish  girl's  gentleness  and 
sympathy.  "  You  have  no  idea  of  —  her  — 


288         MR.  BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

natural  tenderness,  Miss  Trotter,"  he  stam 
mered  naively.  Miss  Trotter,  remembering 
the  wood,  thought  to  herself  that  she  had 
some  faint  idea  of  it,  but  did  not  impart 
what  it  was.  He  spoke  also  of  her  beauty, 
not  being  clever  enough  to  affect  an  in 
difference  or  ignorance  of  it,  which  made 
Miss  Trotter  respect  him  and  smile  an  un 
qualified  acquiescence.  Frida  certainly  was 
pretty  !  But  when  he  spoke  of  her  as  "  Miss 
Jansen,"  and  said  she  was  so  much  more 
"ladylike  and  refined  than  the  other  ser 
vants,"  she  replied  by  asking  him  if  his 
bandages  hurt  him,  and,  receiving  a  negative 
answer,  graciously  withdrew. 

Indeed,  his  bandages  gave  him  little  trou 
ble  now,  and  his  improvement  was  so  marked 
and  sustained  that  the  doctor  was  greatly 
gratified,  and,  indeed,  expressed  as  much  to 
Miss  Trotter,  with  the  conscientious  addition 
that  he  believed  the  greater  part  of  it  was 
due  to  her  capable  nursing !  "  Yes,  ma'am, 
he  has  to  thank  you  for  it,  and  no  one  else !  " 

Miss  Trotter  raised  her  dark  eyes  and 
looked  steadily  at  him.  Accustomed  as  he 
was  to  men  and  women,  the  look  strongly 
held  him.  He  saw  in  her  eyes  an  intelli- 


MR.   BILSOWS  HOUSEKEEPER         289 

gence  equal  to  his  own,  a  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil,  and  a  toleration  and  philosophy, 
equal  to  his  own,  but  a  something  else  that 
was  as  distinct  and  different  as  their  sex. 
And  therein  lay  its  charm,  for  it  merely 
translated  itself  in  his  mind  that  she  had 
very  pretty  eyes,  which  he  had  never  noticed 
before,  without  any  aggressive  intellectual 
quality.  And  with  this,  alas !  came  the 
man's  propensity  to  reason.  It  meant  of 
course  but  one  thing  ;  he  saw  it  all  now  !  If 
he,  in  his  preoccupation  and  coolness,  had 
noticed  her  eyes,  so  also  had  the  younger 
and  emotional  Chris.  The  young  fellow  was 
in  love  with  her !  It  was  that  which  had 
stimulated  his  recovery,  and  she  was  won 
dering  if  he,  the  doctor,  had  observed  it. 
He  smiled  back  the  superior  smile  of  our  sex 
in  moments  of  great  inanity,  and  poor  Miss 
Trotter  believed  he  understood  her.  A  few 
days  after  this,  she  noticed  that  Frida  Jan- 
sen  was  wearing  a  pearl  ring  and  a  some 
what  ostentatious  locket.  She  remembered 
now  that  Mr.  Bilson  had  told  her  that  the 
Eoanoke  Ledge  was  very  rich,  and  that  Cal- 
ton  was  likely  to  prove  a  profitable  guest. 
But  it  was  not  her  business. 


290          MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

It  became  her  business,  however,  some 
days  later,  when  Mr.  Calton  was  so  much 
better  that  he  could  sit  in  a  chair,  or  even 
lounge  listlessly  in  the  hall  and  corridor.  It 
so  chanced  that  she  was  passing  along  the 
upper  hall  when  she  saw  Frida's  pink  cotton 
skirt  disappear  in  an  adjacent  room,  and 
heard  her  light  laugh  as  the  door  closed. 
But  the  room  happened  to  be  a  card-room 
reserved  exclusively  for  gentlemen's  poker 
or  euchre  parties,  and  the  chambermaids 
had  no  business  there.  Miss  Trotter  had 
no  doubt  that  Mr.  Calton  was  there,  and 
that  Frida  knew  it ;  but  as  this  was  an 
indiscretion  so  open,  flagrant,  and  likely  to 
be  discovered  by  the  first  passing  guest,  she 
called  to  her  sharply.  She  was  astonished, 
however,  at  the  same  moment  to  see  Mr. 
Calton  walking  in  the  corridor  at  some  dis 
tance  from  the  room  in  question.  Indeed, 
she  was  so  confounded  that  when  Frida  ap 
peared  from  the  room  a  little  flurried,  but 
with  a  certain  audacity  new  to  her,  Miss 
Trotter  withheld  her  rebuke,  and  sent  her 
off  on  an  imaginary  errand,  while  she  herself 
opened  the  card-room  door.  It  contained 
simply  Mr.  Bilson,  her  employer ;  his  expla- 


MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         291 

nation  was  glaringly  embarrassed  and  un 
real  !  Miss  Trotter  affected  obliviousness, 
but  was  silent  ;  perhaps  she  thought  her 
employer  was  better  able  to  take  care  of 
himself  than  Mr.  Calton. 

A  week  later  this  tension  terminated  by 
the  return  of  Calton  to  Eoanoke  Ledge,  a 
convalescent  man.  A  very  pretty  watch 
and  chain  afterward  were  received  by  Miss 
Trotter,  with  a  few  lines  expressing  the  grat 
itude  of  the  ex-patient.  Mr.  Bilson  was 
highly  delighted,  and  frequently  borrowed 
the  watch  to  show  to  his  guests  as  an  adver 
tisement  of  the  healing  powers  of  the  Sum 
mit  Hotel.  What  Mr.  Calton  sent  to  the 
more  attractive  and  flirtatious  Frida  did  not 
as  publicly  appear,  and  possibly  Mr.  Bilson 
did  not  know  it.  The  incident  of  the  card- 
room  was  forgotten.  Since  that  discovery, 
Miss  Trotter  had  felt  herself  debarred  from 
taking  the  girl's  conduct  into  serious  ac 
count,  and  it  did  not  interfere  with  her 
work. 


292         MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 
II 

One  afternoon  Miss  Trotter  received  a 
message  that  Mr.  Calton  desired  a  few  mo 
ments'  private  conversation  with  her.  A  lit 
tle  curious,  she  had  him  shown  into  one  of 
the  sitting-rooms,  but  was  surprised  on  en 
tering  to  find  that  she  was  in  the  presence  of 
an  utter  stranger  !  This  was  explained  by 
the  visitor  saying  briefly  that  he  was  Chris's 
elder  brother,  and  that  he  presumed  the 
name  would  be  sufficient  introduction.  Miss 
Trotter  smiled  doubtfully,  for  a  more  distinct 
opposite  to  Chris  could  not  be  conceived. 
The  stranger  was  apparently  strong,  practi 
cal,  and  masterful  in  all  those  qualities  in 
which  his  brother  was  charmingly  weak. 
Miss  Trotter,  for  no  reason  whatever,  felt 
herself  inclined  to  resent  them. 

"  I  reckon,  Miss  Trotter,"  he  said  bluntly, 
"  that  you  don't  know  anything  of  this  busi 
ness  that  brings  me  here.  At  least,"  he 
hesitated,  with  a  certain  rough  courtesy,  "  I 
should  judge  from  your  general  style  and 
gait  that  you  would  n't  have  let  it  go  on  so 
far  if  you  had,  but  the  fact  is,  that  darned 
fool  brother  of  mine  —  beg  your  pardon !  — 


MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         293 

has  gone  and  got  himself  engaged  to  one  of 
the  girls  that  help  here,  —  a  yellow-haired 
foreigner,  called  Frida  Jansen." 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  it  had  gone  so  far 
as  that,"  said  Miss  Trotter  quietly,  "al 
though  his  admiration  for  her  was  well 
known,  especially  to  his  doctor,  at  whose 
request  I  selected  her  to  especially  attend 
to  your  brother." 

"  The  doctor  is  a  fool,"  broke  in  Mr.  Cal- 
ton  abruptly.  "  He  only  thought  of  keeping 
Chris  quiet  while  he  finished  his  job." 

"  And  really,  Mr.  Calton,"  continued  Miss 
Trotter,  ignoring  the  interruption,  "  I  do  not 
see  what  right  I  have  to  interfere  with  the 
matrimonial  intentions  of  any  guest  in  this 
house,  even  though  or  —  as  you  seem  to  put 
it  —  because  the  object  of  his  attentions  is 
in  its  employ." 

Mr.  Calton  stared  —  angrily  at  first,  and 
then  with  a  kind  of  wondering  amazement 
that  any  woman  —  above  all  a  housekeeper 
—  should  take  such  a  view.  "  But,"  he 
stammered,  "  I  thought  you  —  you  —  looked 
after  the  conduct  of  those  girls." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  've  assumed  too  much," 
said  Miss  Trotter  placidly.  "  My  business 


294          MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

is  to  see  that  they  attend  to  their  duties 
here.  Frida  Jansen's  duty  was  —  as  I  have 
just  told  you  —  to  look  after  your  brother's 
room.  And  as  far  as  I  understand  you,  you 
are  not  here  to  complain  of  her  inattention 
to  that  duty,  but  of  its  resulting  in  an  at 
tachment  on  your  brother's  part,  and,  as  you 
tell  me,  an  intention  as  to  her  future,  which 
is  really  the  one  thing  that  would  make 
my  '  looking  after  her  conduct '  an  imperti 
nence  and  interference !  If  you  had  come 
to  tell  me  that  he  did  not  intend  to  marry 
her,  but  was  hurting  her  reputation,  I 
could  have  understood  and  respected  your 
motives." 

Mr.  Calton  felt  his  face  grow  red  and  him 
self  discomfited.  He  had  come  there  with 
the  firm  belief  that  he  would  convict  Miss 
Trotter  of  a  grave  fault,  and  that  in  her 
penitence  she  would  be  glad  to  assist  him  in 
breaking  off  the  match.  On  the  contrary, 
to  find  himself  arraigned  and  put  on  his 
defense  by  this  tall,  slim  woman,  erect  and 
smartly  buckramed  in  logic  and  whalebone, 
was  preposterous  !  But  it  had  the  effect  of 
subduing  his  tone. 

"You  don't   understand,"  he  said  awk- 


MR.   BfLSOX'S   HOUSEKEEPER         295 

wardly  yet  pleadingly.  "My  brother  is  a 
fool,  and  any  woman  could  wind  him  round 
her  fin<rer.  She  knows  it.  She  knows  he 

O 

is  rich  and  a  partner  in  the  Roanoke  Ledge. 
That 's  all  she  wants.  She  is  not  a  fit  match 
for  him.  I  've  said  he  was  a  fool  —  hut, 
hang  it  all !  that 's  no  reason  why  he  should 
marry  an  ignorant  girl  —  a  foreigner  and  a 
servant  —  when  he  could  do  better  else 
where." 

"  This  would  seem  to  be  a  matter  between 
you  and  your  brother,  and  not  between 
myself  and  my  servant,"  said  Miss  Trotter 
coldly.  "  If  you  cannot  convince  Mm,  your 
own  brother,  I  do  not  see  how  you  expect 
me  to  convince  her,  a  servant,  over  whom 
I  have  no  control  except  as  a  mistress  of 
her  work,  when,  on  your  own  showing,  she 
has  everything  to  gain  by  the  marriage. 
If  you  wish  Mr.  Bilson.  the  proprietor,  to 
threaten  her  with  dismissal  unless  she  gives 
up  your  brother,"  —  Miss  Trotter  smiled 
inwardly  at  the  thought  of  the  card-room 
incident,  —  "  it  seems  to  me  you  might  only 
precipitate  the  marriage." 

Mr.  Calton  looked  utterly  blank  and  hope 
less.  His  reason  told  him  that  she  was 


296         MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

right.  More  than  that,  a  certain  admiration 
for  her  clear-sightedness  began  to  possess  him, 
with  the  feeling  that  he  would  like  to  have 
"  shown  up  "  a  little  better  than  he  had  in 
this  interview.  If  Chris  had  fallen  in  love 
with  her  —  but  Chris  was  a  fool  and  would  n't 
have  appreciated  her ! 

"  But  you  might  talk  with  her,  Miss  Trot 
ter,"  he  said,  now  completely  subdued. 
"  Even  if  you  could  not  reason  her  out  of  it, 
you  might  find  out  what  she  expects  from 
this  marriage.  If  you  would  talk  to  her  as 
sensibly  as  you  have  to  me  "  — 

"It  is  not  likely  that  she  will  seek  my 
assistance  as  you  have,"  said  Miss  Trotter, 
with  a  faint  smile  which  Mr.  Calton  thought 
quite  pretty,  "  but  I  will  see  about  it."  , 

Whatever  Miss  Trotter  intended  to  do 
did  not  transpire.  She  certainly  was  in  no 
hurry  about  it,  as  she  did  not  say  anything 
to  Frida  that  day,  and  the  next  afternoon  it 
so  chanced  that  business  took  her  to  the  bank 
and  post-office.  Her  way  home  again  lay 
through  the  Summit  woods.  It  recalled  to 
her  the  memorable  occasion  when  she  was 
first  a  witness  to  Frida's  flirtations.  Neither 
that  nor  Mr.  Bilson's  presumed  gallantries, 


MR.  BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         297 

however,  seemed  inconsistent,  in  Miss  Trot 
ter's  knowledge  of  the  world,  with  a  serious 
engagement  with  young  Calton.  She  was 
neither  shocked  nor  horrified  by  it,  and  for 
that  reason  she  had  not  thought  it  necessary 
to  speak  of  it  to  the  elder  Mr.  Calton. 

Her  path  wound  through  a  thicket  fra 
grant  with  syringa  and  southernwood ;  the 
faint  perfume  was  reminiscent  of  Atlantic 
hillsides,  where,  long  ago,  a  girl  teacher, 
she  had  walked  with  the  girl  pupils  of  the 
Vermont  academy,  and  kept  them  from  the 
shy  advances  of  the  local  swains.  She  smiled 
—  a  little  sadly  —  as  the  thought  occurred 
to  her  that  after  this  interval  of  years  it  was 
again  her  business  to  restrain  the  callow 
affections.  Should  she  never  have  the  match 
making  instincts  of  her  sex ;  never  become 
the  trusted  confidante  of  youthful  passion? 
Young  Calton  had  not  confessed  his  passion 
to  Aer,  nor  had  Frida  revealed  her  secret. 
Only  the  elder  brother  had  appealed  to  her 
hard,  practical  common  sense  against  such 
sentiment.  Was  there  something  in  her 
manner  that  forbade  it  ?  She  wondered  if 
it  was  some  uneasy  consciousness  of  this 
quality  which  had  impelled  her  to  snub  the 
elder  Calton,  and  rebelled  against  it. 


298          MR.    BfLSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

It  was  quite  warm  ;  she  had  been  walking 
a  little  faster  than  her  usual  deliberate  gait, 
and  checked  herself,  halting  in  the  warm 
breath  of  the  syringas.  Here  she  heard  her 
name  called  in  a  voice  that  she  recognized, 
but  in  tones  so  faint  and  subdued  that  it 
seemed  to  her  part  of  her  thoughts.  She 
turned  quickly  and  beheld  Chris  Calton  a 
few  feet  from  her,  panting,  partly  from  run 
ning  and  partly  from  some  nervous  embar 
rassment.  His  handsome  but  weak  mouth 
was  expanded  in  an  apologetic  smile  ;  his 
blue  eyes  shone  with  a  kind  of  youthful 
appeal  so  inconsistent  with  his  long  brown 
mustache  and  broad  shoulders  that  she  was 
divided  between  a  laugh  and  serious  concern. 

"  I  saw  you  —  go  into  the  wood  —  but  I 
lost  you,"  he  said,  breathing  quickly,  "  and 
then  when  I  did  see  you  again  —  you  were 
walking  so  fast  I  had  to  run  after  you.  I 
wanted  —  to  speak  —  to  you  —  if  you  '11  let 
me.  I  won't  detain  you  —  I  can  walk  your 
way." 

Miss  Trotter  was  a  little  softened,  but 
not  so  much  as  to  help  him  out  with  his  ex 
planation.  She  drew  her  neat  skirts  aside, 
and  made  way  for  him  on  the  path  beside  her. 


MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         299 

"You  see,"  he  went  on  nervously,  taking 
long  strides  to  her  shorter  ones,  and  occasion 
ally  changing  sides  in  his  embarrassment, 
"  my  brother  Jim  has  been  talking  to  you 
about  my  engagement  to  Frida,  and  trying 
to  put  you  against  her  and  me.  He  said  as 
much  to  me,  and  added  you  half  promised 
to  help  him  !  But  I  did  n't  believe  him  — 
Miss  Trotter !  —  I  know  you  would  n't  do  it 
—  you  have  n't  got  it  in  your  heart  to  hurt 
a  poor  girl!  He  says  he  has  every  confi 
dence  in  you  —  that  you  're  worth  a  dozen 
such  girls  as  she  is,  and  that  I  'm  a  big  fool 
or  I  'd  see  it.  I  don't  say  you  're  not  all  he 
says,  Miss  Trotter  ;  but  I  'm  not  such  a  fool 
as  he  thinks,  for  I  know  your  goodness  too. 
I  know  how  you  tended  me  when  I  was  ill, 
and  how  you  sent  Frida  to  comfort  me. 
You  know,  too,  —  for  you  're  a  woman  your 
self,  —  that  all  you  could  say,  or  anybody 
could,  would  n't  separate  two  people  who 
loved  each  other." 

Miss  Trotter  for  the  first  time  felt  embar 
rassed,  and  this  made  her  a  little  angry. 
"  I  don't  think  I  gave  your  brother  any 
right  to  speak  for  me  or  of  me  in  this  mat 
ter,"  she  said  icily  ;  "  and  if  you  are  quite 


300          MR.   JBILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

satisfied,  as  you  say  you  are,  of  your  own 
affection  and  Frida's,  I  do  not  see  why  you 
should  care  for  anybody's  interference." 

"  Now  you  are  angry  with  me,"  he  said  in 
a  doleful  voice  which  at  any  other  time  would 
have  excited  her  mirth ;  "  and  I  've  just  done 
it.  Oh,  Miss  Trotter,  don't!  Please  for 
give  me  !  I  did  n't  mean  to  say  your  talk  was 
no  good.  I  did  n't  mean  to  say  you  could  n't 
help  us.  Please  don't  be  mad  at  me  !  " 

He  reached  out  his  hand,  grasped  her  slim 
fingers  in  his  own,  and  pressed  them,  hold 
ing  them  and  even  arresting  her  passage. 
The  act  was  without  familiarity  or  boldness, 
and  she  felt  that  to  snatch  her  hand  away 
would  be  an  imputation  of  that  meaning,  in 
stead  of  the  boyish  impulse  that  prompted 
it.  She  gently  withdrew  her  hand  as  if  to 
continue  her  walk,  and  said,  with  a  smile  :  — 

"  Then  you  confess  you  need  help  —  in 
what  way  ?  " 

"  With  her !  " 

Miss  Trotter  stared.  "  With  her  !  "  she 
repeated.  This  was  a  new  idea.  Was  it 
possible  that  this  common,  ignorant  girl  was 
playing  and  trifling  with  her  golden  oppor 
tunity  ?  "  Then  you  are  not  quite  sure  of 
her  ?  "  she  said  a  little  coldly. 


MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         301 

"  She  's  so  high  spirited,  you  know,"  he 
said  humbly,  "  and  so  attractive,  and  if  she 
thought  my  friends  objected  and  were  saying 
unkind  things  of  her,  —  well !  "  —  he  threw 
out  his  hands  with  a  suggestion  of  hopeless 
despair  —  "  there  's  no  knowing  what  she 
might  do." 

Miss  Trotter's  obvious  thought  was  that 
Frida  knew  on  which  side  her  bread  was 
buttered  ;  but  remembering  that  the  proprie 
tor  was  a  widower,  it  occurred  to  her  that 
the  young  woman  might  also  have  it  but 
tered  on  both  sides.  Her  momentary  fancy 
of  uniting  two  lovers  somehow  weakened  at 
this  suggestion,  and  there  was  a  hardening 
of  her  face  as  she  said,  "  "Well,  if  you  can't 
trust  her,  perhaps  your  brother  may  be 
right." 

"I  don't  say  that,  Miss  Trotter,"  said 
Chris  pleadingly,  yet  with  a  slight  wincing 
at  her  words ;  "  you  could  convince  her,  if 
you  would  only  try.  Only  let  her  see  that 
she  has  some  other  friends  beside  myself. 
Look !  Miss  Trotter,  I  '11  leave  it  all  to 
you  —  there !  If  you  will  only  help  me,  I 
will  promise  not  to  see  her  —  not  to  go  near 
her  again  —  until  you  have  talked  with  her. 


302         MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

There  !  Even  my  brother  would  not  object 
to  that.  And  if  he  has  every  confidence  in 
you,  I'm  showing  you  I've  more — don't 
you  see  ?  Come,  now,  promise  —  won't  you, 
dear  Miss  Trotter?"  He  again  took  her 
hand,  and  this  time  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her 
slim  fingers.  And  this  time  she  did  not 
withdraw  them.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  her, 
in  the  quick  recurrence  of  her  previous  sym 
pathy,  as  if  a  hand  had  been  put  into  her 
loveless  past,  grasping  and  seeking  hers  in 
its  loneliness.  None  of  her  school  friends 
had  ever  appealed  to  her  like  this  simple, 
weak,  and  loving  young  man.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  they  were  of  her  own  sex,  and 
she  distrusted  them. 

Nevertheless,  this  momentary  weakness 
did  not  disturb  her  good  common  sense. 
She  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  Perhaps  she 
does  not  trust  you.  Perhaps  you  cannot 
trust  yourself." 

He  felt  himself  reddening  with  a  strange 
embarrassment.  It  was  not  so  much  the 
question  that  disturbed  him  as  the  eyes  of 
Miss  Trotter  ;  eyes  that  he  had  never  before 
noticed  as  being  so  beautiful  in  their  color, 


MR.  BIL SON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         303 

clearness,  and  half  tender  insight.  He 
dropped  her  hand  with  a  new-found  timid 
ity,  and  yet  with  a  feeling  that  he  would 
like  to  hold  it  longer. 

"  I  mean,"  she  said,  stopping  short  in  the 
trail  at  a  point  where  a  fringe  of  almost  im 
penetrable  "  buckeyes  "  marked  the  extreme 
edge  of  the  woods,  —  "I  mean  that  you  are 
still  very  young,  and  as  Frida  is  nearly 
your  own  age,"  —  she  could  not  resist  this 
peculiarly  feminine  innuendo,  —  "  she  may 
doubt  your  ability  to  marry  her  in  the  face 
of  opposition ;  she  may  even  think  my  in 
terference  is  a  proof  of  it ;  but,"  she  added 
quickly,  to  relieve  his  embarrassment  and  a 
certain  abstracted  look  with  which  he  was 
beginning  to  regard  her,  "  I  will  speak  to 
her,  and,"  she  concluded  playfully,  "  you 
must  take  the  consequences." 

He  said  "  Thank  you,"  but  not  so  ear 
nestly  as  his  previous  appeal  might  have 
suggested,  and  with  the  same  awkward  ab 
straction  in  his  eyes.  Miss  Trotter  did  not 
notice  it,  as  her  own  eyes  were  at  that  mo 
ment  fixed  upon  a  point  on  the  trail  a  few 
rods  away.  "  Look,"  she  said  in  a  lower 
voice,  "  I  may  have  the  opportunity  now, 


304         MR.   BILSOWS   HOUSEKEEPER 

for  there  is  Frida  herself  passing."  Chris 
turned  in  the  direction  of  her  glance.  It 
was  indeed  the  young  girl  walking  leisurely 
ahead  of  them.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  smart  pink  calico  gown  in  which  Frida 
was  wont  to  array  her  rather  generous  fig 
ure,  nor  the  long  yellow  braids  that  hung 
Marguerite-wise  down  her  back.  With  the 
consciousness  of  good  looks  which  she  al 
ways  carried,  there  was,  in  spite  of  her  af 
fected  ease,  a  slight  furtiveness  in  the  occa 
sional  swift  turn  of  her  head,  as  if  evading 
or  seeking  observation. 

"  I  will  overtake  her  and  speak  to  her 
now,"  continued  Miss  Trotter.  "  I  may  not 
have  so  good  a  chance  again  to  see  her 
alone.  You  can  wait  here  for  my  return, 
if  you  like." 

Chris  started  out  of  his  abstraction. 
"  Stay !  "  he  stammered,  with  a  faint,  tenta 
tive  smile.  "Perhaps  —  don't  you  think? 
—  I  had  better  go  first  and  tell  her  you 
want  to  see  her.  I  can  send  her  here. 
You  see,  she  might "  —  He  stopped. 

Miss  Trotter  smiled.  "  It  was  part  of 
your  promise,  you  know,  that  you  were  not 
to  see  her  again  until  I  had  spoken.  But 


MR   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         305 

no  matter !  Have  it  as  you  wish.  I  will 
wait  here.  Only  be  quick.  She  has  just 
gone  into  the  grove." 

Without  another  word  the  young  man 
turned  away,  and  she  presently  saw  him 
walking  toward  the  pine  grove  into  which 
Frida  had  disappeared.  Then  she  cleared 
a  space  among  the  matted  moss  and  chick- 
weed,  and,  gathering  her  skirts  about  her, 
sat  down  to  wait.  The  unwonted  attitude, 
the  whole  situation,  and  the  part  that  she 
seemed  destined  to  take  in  this  sentimental 
comedy  affected  her  like  some  quaint  child's 
play  out  of  her  lost  youth,  and  she  smiled, 
albeit  with  a  little  heightening  of  color  and 
lively  brightening  of  her  eyes.  Indeed,  as 
she  sat  there  listlessly  probing  the  roots  of 
the  mosses  with  the  point  of  her  parasol, 
the  casual  passer-by  might  have  taken  her 
self  for  the  heroine  of  some  love  tryst.  She 
had  a  faint  consciousness  of  this  as  she 
glanced  to  the  right  and  left,  wondering 
what  any  one  from  the  hotel  who  saw  her 
would  think  of  her  sylvan  rendezvous  ;  and 
as  the  recollection  of  Chris  kissing-  her  hand 

O 

suddenly  came  back  to  her,  her  smile  be 
came  a  nervous  laugh,  and  she  found  her 
self  actually  blushing ! 


306          MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

But  she  was  recalled  to  herself  as  sud 
denly.  Chris  was  returning.  He  was  walk 
ing  directly  towards  her  with  slow,  deter 
mined  steps,  quite  different  from  his  previous 
nervous  agitation,  and  as  he  drew  nearer 
she  saw  with  some  concern  an  equally 
strange  change  in  his  appearance :  his  color 
ful  face  was  pale,  his  eyes  fixed,  and  he 
looked  ten  years  older.  She  rose  quickly. 

"  I  came  back  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  from  which  all  trace  of  his  former 
agitation  had  passed,  "that  I  relieve  you 
of  your  promise.  It  won't  be  necessary  for 
you  to  see  —  Frida.  I  thank  you  all  the  same, 
Miss  Trotter,"  he  said,  avoiding  her  eyes 
with  a  slight  return  to  his  boyish  manner. 
"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  promise  to  under 
take  a  foolish  errand  for  me,  and  to  wait 
here,  and  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  take 
myself  off  now  and  keep  you  no  longer. 
Please  don't  ask  me  why.  Sometime  I  may 
tell  you,  but  not  now." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  her  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Trotter  quickly,  premising  Frida's  refusal 
from  his  face. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  he  said 
gravely,  "Yes.  Don't  ask  me  any  more, 


MR.   BTL  SON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         307 

Miss  Trotter,  please.  Good-by ! "  He 
paused,  and  then,  with  a  slight,  uneasy 
glance  toward  the  pine  grove,  "  Don't  let  me 
keep  you  waiting  here  any  longer."  He  took 
her  hand,  held  it  lightly  for  a  moment,  and 
said,  "  Go,  now." 

Miss  Trotter,  slightly  bewildered  and  un 
satisfied,  nevertheless  passed  obediently  out 
into  the  trail.  He  gazed  after  her  for  a 
moment,  and  then  turned  and  began  rapidly 
to  ascend  the  slope  where  he  had  first  over 
taken  her,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  Miss 
Trotter  continued  her  way  home ;  but  when 
she  had  reached  the  confines  of  the  wood 
she  turned,  as  if  taking  some  sudden  resolu 
tion,  and  began  slowly  to  retrace  her  steps  in 
the  direction  of  the  pine  grove.  What  she 
expected  to  see  there,  possibly  she  could  not 
have  explained ;  what  she  actually  saw  after 
a  moment's  waiting  were  the  figures  of  Frida 
and  Mr.  Bilson  issuing  from  the  shade ! 
Her  respected  employer  wore  an  air  of  some 
what  ostentatious  importance  mingled  with 
rustic  gallantry.  Frida's  manner  was  also 
conscious  with  gratified  vanity  :  and  although 
they  believed  themselves  alone,  her  voice 
was  already  pitched  into  a  high  key  of  ner- 


308         MR.   BILSOWS  HOUSEKEEPER 

vous  affectation,  indicative  of  the  peasant. 
But  there  was  nothing  to  suggest  that  Chris 
had  disturbed  them  in  their  privacy  and 
confidences.  Yet  he  had  evidently  seen 
enough  to  satisfy  himself  of  her  faithless 
ness.  Had  he  ever  suspected  it  before  ? 

Miss  Trotter  waited  only  until  they  had 
well  preceded  her,  and  then  took  a  shorter 
cut  home.  She  was  quite  prepared  that 
evening  for  an  interview  which  Mr.  Bilson 
requested.  She  found  him  awkward  and 
embarrassed  in  her  cool,  self-possessed  pre 
sence.  He  said  he  deemed  it  his  duty  to 
inform  her  of  his  approaching  marriage  with 
Miss  Jansen ;  but  it  was  because  he  wished 
distinctly  to  assure  her  that  it  would  make 
no  difference  in  Miss  Trotter's  position  in 
the  hotel,  except  to  promote  her  to  the  en 
tire  control  of  the  establishment.  He  was 
to  be  married  in  San  Francisco  at  once,  and 
he  and  his  wife  were  to  go  abroad  for  a 
year  or  two ;  indeed,  he  contemplated  eventu 
ally  retiring  from  business.  If  Mr.  Bilson 
was  uneasily  conscious  during  this  interview 
that  he  had  once  paid  attentions  to  Miss 
Trotter,  which  she  had  ignored,  she  never 
betrayed  the  least  recollection  of  it.  She 


MR.   BILSON' S  HOUSEKEEPER         309 

thanked  him  for  his  confidence  and  wished 
him  happiness. 

Sudden  as  was  this  good  fortune  to  Miss 
Trotter,  an  independence  she  had  so  often 
deservedly  looked  forward  to,  she  was, 
nevertheless,  keenly  alive  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  attained  it  partly  through  Chris's 
disappointment  and  unhappiness.  Her  sane 
mind  taught  her  that  it  was  better  for 
him ;  that  he  had  been  saved  an  ill-assorted 
marriage  ;  that  the  girl  had  virtually  re 
jected  him  for  Bilson  before  he  had  asked 
her  mediation  that  morning.  Yet  these  rea 
sons  failed  to  satisfy  her  feelings.  It  seemed 
cruel  to  her  that  the  interest  which  she  had 
suddenly  taken  in  poor  Chris  should  end 
so  ironically  in  disaster  to  her  sentiment 
and  success  to  her  material  prosperity.  She 
thought  of  his  boyish  appeal  to  her ;  of 
what  must  have  been  his  utter  discomfiture 
in  the  discovery  of  Frida's  relations  to  Mr. 
Bilson  that  afternoon,  but  more  particularly 
of  the  singular  change  it  had  effected  in  him. 
How  nobly  and  gently  he  had  taken  his  loss  ! 
How  much  more  like  a  man  he  looked  in 
his  defeat  than  in  his  passion !  The  ele 
ment  of  respect  which  had  been  wanting  in 


310          MR.   BILSON' S   HOUSEKEEPER 

her  previous  interest  in  him  was  now  pre 
sent  in  her  thoughts.  It  prevented  her  seek 
ing  him  with  perfunctory  sympathy  and 
worldly  counsel ;  it  made  her  feel  strangely 
and  unaccountably  shy  of  any  other  ex 
pression. 

As  Mr.  Bilson  evidently  desired  to  avoid 
local  gossip  until  after  his  marriage,  he  had 
enjoined  secrecy  upon  her,  and  she  was  also 
debarred  from  any  news  of  Chris  through 
his  brother,  who,  had  he  known  of  Frida's 
engagement,  would  have  naturally  come  to 
her  for  explanation.  It  also  convinced  her 
that  Chris  himself  had  not  revealed  anything 
to  his  brother. 


Ill 


When  the  news  of  the  marriage  reached 
Buckeye  Hill,  it  did  not,  however,  make 
much  scandal,  owing,  possibly,  to  the  scant 
number  of  the  sex  who  are  apt  to  dissem 
inate  it,  and  to  many  the  name  of  Miss 
Jansen  was  unknown.  The  intelligence  that 
Mr.  Bilson  would  be  absent  for  a*  year,  and 
that  the  superior  control  of  the  Summit 
Hotel  would  devolve  upon  Miss  Trotter,  did, 


MR.    BIL SON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         311 

however,  create  a  stir  in  that  practical  busi 
ness  community.  No  one  doubted  the  wis 
dom  of  the  selection.  Every  one  knew  that 
to  Miss  Trotter's  tact  and  intellect  the  suc 
cess  of  the  hotel  had  been  mainly  due.  Pos 
sibly,  the  satisfaction  of  Buckeye  Hill  was 
due  to  something  else.  Slowly  and  insen 
sibly  Miss  Trotter  had  achieved  a  social 
distinction ;  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the 
banker,  the  lawyer,  and  the  pastor  had  made 
much  of  her,  and  now,  as  an  independent 
woman  of  means,  she  stood  first  in  the  dis 
trict.  Guests  deemed  it  an  honor  to  have 
a  personal  interview  with  her.  The  gov 
ernor  of  the  State  and  the  Supreme  Court 
judges  treated  her  like  a  private  hostess  ; 
middle-aged  Miss  Trotter  was  considered  as 
eligible  a  match  as  the  proudest  heiress  in 
California.  The  old  romantic  fiction  of  her 
past  was  revived  again,  —  they  had  known 
she  was  a  "  real  lady  "  from  the  first !  She 
received  these  attentions,  as  became  her 
sane  intellect  and  cool  temperament,  with 
out  pride,  affectation,  or  hesitation.  Only 
her  dark  eyes  brightened  on  the  day  when 
Mr.  Bilson's  marriage  was  made  known,  and 
she  was  called  upon  by  James  Calton. 


312         MR.   JBILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

"  I  did  you  a  great  injustice,"  he  said, 
with  a  smile. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  replied  a 
little  coldly. 

"  Why,  this  woman  and  her  marriage," 
he  said ;  "  you  must  have  known  something 
of  it  all  the  time,  and  perhaps  helped  it 
along  to  save  Chris." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  returned  Miss 
Trotter  truthfully.  "  I  knew  nothing  of 
Mr.  Bilson's  intentions." 

"  Then  I  have  wronged  you  still  more," 
he  said  briskly,  "  for  I  thought  at  first  that 
you  were  inclined  to  help  Chris  in  his  fool 
ishness.  Now  I  see  it  was  your  persuasions 
that  changed  him." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  once  for  all,  Mr.  Cal- 
ton,"  she  returned  with  an  impulsive  heat 
which  she  regretted,  "  that  I  did  not  inter 
fere  in  any  way  with  your  brother's  suit. 
He  spoke  to  me  of  it,  and  I  promised  to 
see  Frida,  but  he  afterwards  asked  me  not 
to.  I  know  nothing  of  the  matter." 

"  Well,"  laughed  Mr.  Calton,  "  whatever 
you  did,  it  was  most  efficacious,  and  you  did 
it  so  graciously  and  tactfully  that  it  has  not 
altered  his  high  opinion  of  you,  if,  indeed, 


MR.    BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         313 

he  has  n't  really  transferred  his  affections  to 
you." 

Luckily  Miss  Trotter  had  her  face  turned 
from  him  at  the  beginning  of  the  sentence, 
or  he  would  have  noticed  the  quick  flush 
that  suddenly  came  to  her  cheek  and  eyes. 
Yet  for  an  instant  this  calm,  collected  woman 
trembled,  not  at  what  Mr.  Calton  might  have 
noticed,  but  at  what  she  had  noticed  in  her 
self.  Mr.  Calton,  construing  her  silence  and 
averted  head  into  some  resentment  of  his 
familiar  speech,  continued  hurriedly :  — 

"  I  mean,  don't  you  see,  that  I  believe 
no  other  woman  could  have  influenced  my 
brother  as  you  have." 

"  You  mean,  I  think,  that  he  has  taken  his 
broken  heart  very  lightly,"  said  Miss  Trot 
ter,  with  a  bitter  little  laugh,  so  unlike  her 
self  that  Mr.  Calton  was  quite  concerned 
at  it. 

"No,"  he  said  gravely.  "I  can't  say 
that !  He 's  regularly  cut  up,  you  know  ! 
And  changed ;  you  'd  hardly  know  him.  More 
like  a  gloomy  crank  than  the  easy  fool  he 
used  to  be,"  he  went  on,  with  brotherly  di 
rectness.  "  It  would  n't  be  a  bad  thing,  you 
know,  if  you  could  manage  to  see  him,  Miss 


314          MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

Trotter  !  In  fact,  as  he  's  off  his  feed,  and 
has  some  trouble  with  his  arm  again,  owing 
to  all  this,  I  reckon,  I  've  been  thinking  of 
advising  him  to  come  up  to  the  hotel  once 
more  till  he  's  better.  So  long  as  she  's  gone 
it  would  be  all  right,  you  know !  " 

By  this  time  Miss  Trotter  was  herself 
again.  She  reasoned,  or  thought  she  did, 
that  this  was  a  question  of  the  business  of 
the  hotel,  and  it  was  clearly  her  duty  to 
assent  to  Chris's  coming.  The  strange  yet 
pleasurable  timidity  which  possessed  her  at 
the  thought  she  ignored  completely. 

He  came  the  next  day.  Luckily,  she  was 
so  much  shocked  by  the  change  in  his  ap 
pearance  that  it  left  no  room  for  any  other 
embarrassmenit  in  the  meeting.  His  face 
had  lost  its  fresh  color  and  round  outline  ; 
the  lines  of  his  mouth  were  drawn  with  pain 
and  accented  by  his  drooping  mustache ;  his 
eyes,  which  had  sought  hers  with  a  singular 
seriousness,  no  longer  wore  the  look  of  sym 
pathetic  appeal  which  had  once  so  exasper 
ated  her,  but  were  filled  with  an  older 
experience.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  have  ap 
proximated  so  near  to  her  own  age  that,  by 
one  of  those  paradoxes  of  the  emotions,  she 


MR.    BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER          315 

felt  herself  much  younger,  and  in  smile  and 
eye  showed  it ;  at  which  he  colored  faintly. 
But  she  kept  her  sympathy  and  inquiries 
limited  to  his  physical  health,  and  made  no 
allusion  to  his  past  experiences ;  indeed, 
ignoring  any  connection  between  the  two. 
He  had  been  shockingly  careless  in  his  conva 
lescence,  had  had  a  relapse  in  consequence, 
and  deserved  a  good  scolding  !  His  relapse 
was  a  reflection  upon  the  efficacy  of  the  hotel 
as  a  perfect  cure  !  She  shoidd  treat  him 
more  severely  now,  and  allow  him  no  indul 
gences  !  I  do  not  know  that  Miss  Trotter 
intended  anything  covert,  but  their  eyes  met 
and  he  colored  again.  Ignoring  this  also, 
and  promising  to  look  after  him  occasionally, 
she  quietly  withdrew. 

But  about  this  time  it  was  noticed  that  a 
change  took  place  in  Miss  Trotter.  Always 
scrupulously  correct,  and  even  severe  in  her 
dress,  she  allowed  herself  certain  privileges 
of  color,  style,  and  material.  She,  who  had 
always  affected  dark  shades  and  stiff  white 
cuffs  and  collars,  came  out  in  delicate  tints 
and  laces,  which  lent  a  brilliancy  to  her  dark 
eyes  and  short  crisp  black  curls,  slightly 
tinged  with  gray.  One  warm  summer  even- 


316          MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

ing  she  startled  every  one  by  appearing  in 
white,  possibly  a  reminiscence  of  her  youth 
at  the  Yermont  academy.  The  masculine 
guests  thought  it  pretty  and  attractive ; 
even  the  women  forgave  her  what  they  be 
lieved  a  natural  expression  of  her  prosperity 
and  new  condition,  but  regretted  a  taste 
so  inconsistent  with  her  age.  For  all  that, 
Miss  Trotter  had  never  looked  so  charming, 
and  the  faint  autumnal  glow  in  her  face 
made  no  one  regret  her  passing  summer. 

One  evening  she  found  Chris  so  much 
better  that  he  was  sitting  on  the  balcony, 
but  still  so  depressed  that  she  was  compelled 
so  far  to  overcome  the  singular  timidity  she 
had  felt  in  his  presence  as  to  ask  him  to 
come  into  her  own  little  drawing-room,  os 
tensibly  to  avoid  the  cool  night  air.  It  was 
the  former  "  card-room  "  of  the  hotel,  but 
now  fitted  with  feminine  taste  and  pretti- 
ness.  She  arranged  a  seat  for  him  on  the 
sofa,  which  he  took  with  a  certain  brusque 
boyish  surliness,  the  last  vestige  of  his 
youth. 

u  It 's  very  kind  of  you  to  invite  me  in 
here,"  he  began  bitterly,  "  when  you  are  so 
run  after  by  every  one,  and  to  leave  Judge 


MR.   BILSON' S   HOUSEKEEPER         317 

Fletcher  just  now  to  talk  to  me,  but  I  sup 
pose  you  are  simply  pitying  me  for  being  a 
fool ! " 

"  I  thought  you  were  imprudent  in  expos 
ing  yourself  to  the  night  air  on  the  balcony, 
and  I  think  Judge  Fletcher  is  old  enough  to 
take  care  of  himself,"  she  returned,  with  the 
faintest  touch  of  coquetry,  and  a  smile  which 
was  quite  as  much  an  amused  recognition 
of  that  quality  in  herself  as  anything  else. 

"  And  I  'm  a  baby  who  can't,"  he  said  an 
grily.  After  a  pause  he  burst  out  abruptly : 
"  Miss  Trotter,  will  you  answer  me  one 
question?" 

"  Go  on,"  she  said  smilingly. 

"  Did  you  know  —  that  —  woman  was 
engaged  to  Bilson  when  I  spoke  to  you  in 
the  wood?" 

"  No  !  "  she  answered  quickly,  but  without 
the  sharp  resentment  she  had  shown  at  his 
brother's  suggestion.  "  I  only  knew  it  when 
Mr.  Bilson  told  me  the  same  evening." 

"  And  I  only  knew  it  when  news  came  of 
their  marriage,"  he  said  bitterly. 

"  But  you  must  have  suspected  something 
when  you  saw  them  together  in  the  wood," 
she  responded. 


318         MR.   EILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

"  When  I  saw  them  together  in  the 
wood  ?  "  he  repeated  dazedly. 

Miss  Trotter  was  startled,  and  stopped 
short.  Was  it  possible  he  had  not  seen 
them  together  ?  She  was  shocked  that  she 
had  spoken  ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  withdraw 
her  words.  "  Yes,"  she  went  on  hurriedly, 
"  I  thought  that  was  why  you  came  back  to 
say  that  I  was  not  to  speak  to  her.9' 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly,  and  said  slowly  : 
"You  thought  that?  Well,  listen  to  me. 
I  saw  no  one  !  I  knew  nothing  of  this  ! 
I  suspected  nothing  !  I  returned  before  I 
had  reached  the  wood  —  because  —  because 

—  I  had  changed  my  mind !  " 

"  Changed  your  mind ! "  she  repeated 
wonderingly. 

"  Yes  !  Changed  my  mind  !  I  could  n't 
stand  it  any  longer  !  I  did  not  love  the  girl 

—  I  never  loved    her  —  I  was  sick  of  my 
folly.     Sick  of    deceiving  you    and   myself 
any  longer.     Now  you  know  why  I  did  n't 
go  into  the  wood,  and  why  I    didn't  care 
where  she  was  nor  who  was  with  her !  " 

"  I  don't  understand,"  she  said,  lifting 
her  clear  eyes  to  his  coldly. 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  he  said  bitterly. 


MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER         319 

"  I  did  n't  understand  myself !  And  when 
you  do  understand  you  will  hate  and  despise 
me  —  if  you  do  not  laugh  at  me  for  a  con 
ceited  fool !  Hear  me  out,  Miss  Trotter, 
for  I  am  speaking  the  truth  to  you  now,  if 
I  never  spoke  it  before.  I  never  asked  the 
girl  to  marry  me  !  I  never  said  to  her  half 
what  I  told  to  you,  and  when  I  asked  you 
to  intercede  with  her,  I  never  wanted  you  to 
do  it  — and  never  expected  you  would." 

"  May  I  ask  why  you  did  it  then  ?  "  said 
Miss  Trotter,  with  an  acerbity  which  she  put 
on  to  hide  a  vague,  tantalizing  conscious 
ness. 

"  You  would  not  believe  me  if  I  told  you, 
and  you  would  hate  me  if  you  did."  He 
stopped,  and,  locking  his  fingers  together, 
threw  his  hands  over  the  back  of  the  sofa 
and  leaned  toward  her.  "  You  never  liked 
me,  Miss  Trotter,"  he  said  more  quietly  ; 
"  not  from  the  first !  From  the  day  that  I 
was  brought  to  the  hotel,  when  you  came  to 
see  me,  I  could  see  that  you  looked  upon  me 
as  a  foolish,  petted  boy.  AVhen  I  tried  to 
catch  your  eye,  you  looked  at  the  doctor, 
and  took  your  speech  from  him.  And  yet 
I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  woman  so  great 


320         MR.   BILSON'S   HOUSEKEEPER 

and  perfect  as  you  were,  and  whose  sympa 
thy  I  longed  so  much  to  have.  You  may 
not  believe  me,  but  I  thought  you  were  a 
queen,  for  you  were  the  first  lady  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  you  were  so  different  from  the 
other  girls  I  knew,  or  the  women  who  had 
been  kind  to  me.  You  may  laugh,  but  it 's 
the  truth  I  'm  telling  you,  Miss  Trotter !  " 

He  had  relapsed  completely  into  his  old 
pleading,  boyish  way  —  it  had  struck  her 
even  as  he  had  pleaded  to  her  for  Frida ! 

"  I  knew  you  did  n't  like  me  that  day  you 
came  to  change  the  bandages.  Although 
every  touch  of  your  hands  seemed  to  ease 
my  pain,  you  did  it  so  coldly  and  precisely  ; 
and  although  I  longed  to  keep  you  there 
with  me,  you  scarcely  waited  to  take  my 
thanks,  but  left  me  as  if  you  had  only  done 
your  duty  to  a  stranger.  And  worst  of  all," 
he  went  on  more  bitterly,  "  the  doctor  knew 
it  too  —  guessed  how  I  felt  toward  you, 
and  laughed  at  me  for  my  hopelessness ! 
That  made  me  desperate,  and  put  me  up 
to  act  the  fool.  I  did !  Yes,  Miss  Trotter ; 
I  thought  it  mighty  clever  to  appear  to  be 
in  love  with  Frida,  and  to  get  him  to  ask  to 
have  her  attend  me  regularly.  And  when 


MR.  B1L8OJTS  HOUSEKEEPER 

you  simply  consented,  without  a  word  or 
thought  about  it  and  me,  I  knew  I  was 
nothing  to  you." 

MUs  Trotter  felt  a  sudden  thrilL  The 
recollection  of  Dr.  Duehesne's  strange  scru 
tiny  of  her?  of  her  own  mistake,  which  she 
now  knew  might  have  been  the  truth  — 
flashed  across  her  confused  consciousness  in 
swift  corroboration  of  his  words.  It  was  a 
double  revelation  to  her ;  for  what  else  was 
the  meaning  of  this  subtle,  insidious,  benumb 
ing  sweetness  that  was  now  creeping  over 
hear  sense  and  spirit  and  holding  her  fast. 
She  feh  she  ought  to  listen  no  longer  —  to 
speak  —  to  say  something  —  to  get  up  —  to 
turn  and  confront  him  coldly  —  but  she  was 
powerless.  Her  reason  told  her  that  she 
had  been  the  victim  of  a  trick  —  that  hav 
ing  deceived  her  once,  he  might  be  doing 
so  again ;  but  she  could  not  break  the  spell 
that  was  upon  her,  nor  did  she  want  to. 
She  must  know  the  culmination  of  this  con- 
fession,  whose  preamble  thrilled  her  so 
strangely. 

"  The  girl  was  kind  and  sympathetic/'  he 
went  on,  "  but  I  was  not  so  great  a  fool  as 
not  to  know  that  she  was  a  flirt  and  aceus- 


322         MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

tomed  to  attention.  I  suppose  it  was  in 
my  desperation  that  I  told  my  brother, 
thinking  he  would  tell  you,  as  he  did.  He 
would  not  tell  me  what  you  said  to  him,  ex 
cept  that  you  seemed  to  be  indignant  at  the 
thought  that  I  was  only  flirting  with  Frida. 
Then  I  resolved  to  speak  with  you  myself  — 
and  I  did.  I  know  it  was  a  stupid,  clumsy 
contrivance.  It  never  seemed  so  stupid  be 
fore  I  spoke  to  you.  It  never  seemed  so 
wicked  as  when  you  promised  to  help  me, 
and  your  eyes  shone  on  me  for  the  first  time 
with  kindness.  And  it  never  seemed  so  hope 
less  as  when  I  found  you  touched  with  my 
love  for  another.  You  wonder  why  I  kept 
up  this  deceit  until  you  promised.  Well,  I 
had  prepared  the  bitter  cup  myself  —  I 
thought  I  ought  to  drink  it  to  the  dregs." 

She  turned  quietly,  passionately,  and, 
standing  up,  faced  him  with  a  little  cry. 
"  Why  are  you  telling  me  this  now  ?" 

He  rose  too,  and  catching  her  hands  in 
his,  said,  with  a  white  face,  "  Because  I  love 
you." 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  the  under-house- 
keeper  was  summoned  to  receive  Miss  Trot- 


MR.   BILSOWS   HOUSEKEEPER         323 

ter's  orders,  she  found  that  lady  quietly 
writing  at  the  table.  Among  the  orders 
she  received  was  the  notification  that  Mr. 
Calton's  rooms  would  be  vacated  the  next 
day.  When  the  servant,  who,  like  most  of 
her  class,  was  devoted  to  the  good-natured, 
good-looking,  liberal  Chris,  asked  with  some 
concern  if  the  young  gentleman  was  no 
better,  Miss  Trotter,  with  equal  placidity, 
answered  that  it  was  his  intention  to  put 
himself  under  the  care  of  a  specialist  in  San 
Francisco,  and  that  she,  Miss  Trotter,  fully 
approved  of  his  course.  She  finished  her 
letter,  —  the  servant  noticed  that  it  was 
addressed  to  Mr.  Bilson  at  Paris,  —  and, 
handing  it  to  her,  bade  that  it  shoidd  be 
given  to  a  groom,  with  orders  to  ride  over  to 
the  Summit  post-office  at  once  to  catch  the 
last  post.  As  the  housekeeper  turned  to  go, 
she  again  referred  to  the  departing  guest.  "  It 
seems  such  a  pity,  ma'am,  that  Mr.  Calton 
could  n't  stay,  as  he  always  said  you  did  him 
so  much  good."  Miss  Trotter  smiled  affa 
bly.  But  when  the  door  closed  she  gave  a 
hysterical  little  laugh,  and  then,  dropping 
her  handsome  gray-streaked  head  in  her  slim 
hands,  cried  like  a  girl  —  or,  indeed,  as  she 
had  never  cried  when  a  girl. 


324         MR.  BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

When  the  news  of  Mr.  Gallon's  departure 
became  known  the  next  day,  some  lady 
guests  regretted  the  loss  of  this  most  eligible 
young  bachelor.  Miss  Trotter  agreed  with 
them,  with  the  consoling  suggestion  that 
he  might  return  for  a  day  or  two.  He  did 
return  for  a  day;  it  was  thought  that  the 
change  to  San  Francisco  had  greatly  bene 
fited  him,  though  some  believed  he  would  be 
an  invalid  all  his  life. 

Meantime  Miss  Trotter  attended  regularly 
to  her  duties,  with  the  difference,  perhaps, 
that  she  became  daily  more  socially  popular 
and  perhaps  less  severe  in  her  reception  of 
the  attentions  of  the  masculine  guests.  It 
was  finally  whispered  that  the  great  Judge 
Boompointer  was  a  serious  rival  of  Judge 
Fletcher  for  her  hand.  When,  three  months 
later,  some  excitement  was  caused  by  the 
intelligence  that  Mr.  Bilson  was  returning 
to  take  charge  of  his  hotel,  owing  to  the 
resignation  of  Miss  Trotter,  who  needed  a 
complete  change,  everybody  knew  what 
that  meant.  A  few  were  ready  to  name  the 
day  when  she  would  become  Mrs.  Boom- 
pointer  ;  others  had  seen  the  engagement 
ring  of  Judge  Fletcher  on  her  slim  finger. 


MR.   BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         325 

Nevertheless  Miss  Trotter  married  neither, 
and  by  the  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bilson  had 
returned  she  had  taken  her  holiday,  and  the 
Summit  House  knew  her  no  more. 

Three  years  later,  and  at  a  foreign  Spa, 
thousands  of  miles  distant  from  the  scene 
of  her  former  triumphs,  Miss  Trotter  reap 
peared  as  a  handsome,  stately,  gray-haired 
stranger,  whose  aristocratic  bearing  deeply 
impressed  a  few  of  her  own  countrymen  who 
witnessed  her  arrival,  and  believed  her  to  be 
a  grand  duchess  at  the  least.  They  were 
still  more  convinced  of  her  superiority  when 
they  saw  her  welcomed  by  the  well-known 
Baroness  X.,  and  afterwards  engaged  in  a 
very  confidential  conversation  with  that  lady. 
But  they  would  have  been  still  more  sur 
prised  had  they  known  the  tenor  of  that 
conversation. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  the  Spa  very 
empty  just  now,"  said  the  baroness  critically. 
"  But  there  are  a  few  of  vour  compatriots 
here,  however,  and  they  are  always  amusing. 
You  see  that  somewhat  faded  blonde  sitting 
quite  alone  in  that  arbor  ?  That  is  her  posi 
tion  day  after  day,  while  her  husband  openly 
flirts  or  is  flirted  with  by  half  the  women 


326         MR,  £ILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER 

here.  Quite  the  opposite  experience  one 
has  of  American  women,  where  it 's  all  the 
other  way,  is  it  not  ?  And  there  is  an  odd 
story  about  her  which  may  account  for,  if 
it  does  not  excuse,  her  husband's  neglect. 
They  're  very  rich,  but  they  say  she  was 
originally  a  mere  servant  in  a  hotel." 

"  You  forget  that  I  told  you  I  was  once 
only  a  housekeeper  in  one,"  said  Miss  Trot 
ter,  smiling. 

"  Nonsense.  I  mean  that  this  woman  was 
a  mere  peasant,  and  frightfully  ignorant  at 
that ! " 

Miss  Trotter  put  up  her  eyeglass,  and, 
after  a  moment's  scrutiny,  said  gently,  "I 
think  you  are  a  little  severe.  I  know  her ; 
it 's  a  Mrs.  Bilson." 

"No,  my  dear.  You  are  quite  wrong. 
That  was  the  name  of  her  first  husband.  I 
am  told  she  was  a  widow  who  married  again 
—  quite  a  fascinating  young  man,  and  evi 
dently  her  superior  —  that  is  what  is  so 
funny.  She  is  a  Mrs.  Calton  — '  Mrs.  Chris 
Calton,'  as  she  calls  herself." 

"  Is  her  husband  —  Mr.  Calton  —  here  ?  " 
said  Miss  Trotter  after  a  pause,  in  a  still 
gentler  voice. 


MR.  BILSON'S  HOUSEKEEPER         327 

"Naturally  not.  He  has  gone  on  an  ex 
cursion  with  a  party  of  ladies  to  the  Schwartz- 
berg.  He  returns  to-morrow.  You  will  find 
her  very  stupid,  but  he  is  very  jolly,  though 
a  little  spoiled  by  women.  Why  do  we 
always  spoil  them  ?  " 

Miss  Trotter  smiled,  and  presently  turned 
the  subject.  But  the  baroness  was  greatly 
disappointed  to  find  the  next  day  that  an 
unexpected  telegram  had  obliged  Miss  Trot 
ter  to  leave  the  Spa  without  meeting  the 
Caltons. 


PRINTED  BY  H.  O.  HOUGHTON  &  CO. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 

U.S.A. 


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